The Apprentice, Part 1
by rimera
Summary: Merlin has faced many trials in his destiny to protect the Once and Future King, but can he handle a thirteen year old girl from the 21st century? Go with Cameron on her journey to Camelot, as she fights to help Arthur bring magic back to the world, and learns it isn't easy being the Apprentice...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, here we go again. This is a re-write, I apologize to anyone who had gotten into the first one, but I'm going a different direction with this. I'd like to say a couple of things. First off, I do not own Merlin, obviously. Second, as you can probably tell by my writing, I am an American. Merlin is a British television show. Now, as a responsible fanfic writer, I have done copious research in preparation for this fic, but it just doesn't compare to actually being a native to the culture I'm trying to write about. That is why I ask all of my British readers, if you see something that I've written that causes my characters (all of whom are supposed to be British) to seem anything but, please let me know via review, and I will go back and change these chapters accordingly. I do not promise to change major plot points, but if my character says something American, and a British person would say it a different way, please, PLEASE let me know! :)**

 **Additional Note: Thank you to the reviewer who told me about the proper use of the word 'mum'. I really had no clue, and edited accordingly. Thanks!**

 **Thank you, and I hope you enjoy the story.**

Cameron breathed in the moist breeze that blew over the lake, smiling a bit to herself. Cool moisture settled over her skin, and she shivered slightly, though not from the cold. She had seen lakes before, but this one was special. Nothing was floating in it. No empty beer cans, no stray wrappers blown about by the wind to get caught in the tall reeds around the lake. And yet, it was natural, the grass around it grew tall, the rocks were just that, rocks, there was no order or symmetry to their placement. No tatters of black cloth or plastic that usually betrayed the waterproof lining of a false water feature. This was a natural lake.

And yet, it didn't seem to be home to any insects. No turtles poking their heads up, no ripples indicating the presence of a fish swimming too close to surface. It was perfectly still. Quiet. Clear.

She needed that right now.

Joggers would occasionally pass by on the sidewalk in front of her perch on the old picnic table, completely oblivious to the thirteen-year-old girl sitting there, or to the beauty of the lake. Which was just as well for Cameron, as it meant she got to enjoy her peace and quiet in solitude.

Well, so she thought.

She wasn't sure how long the old man had stood there, staring at her, but when Cameron looked up, there he was. Staring. He wore torn jeans and a tired blue jacket, though it wasn't yet that cold outside. His long white hair and white beard told her he was probably a pikey of some sort… if he had _had_ a job, surely they would have made him trim his hair or shave. The girl shifted uncomfortably, looking back out at the lake, hoping the man would take the hint and go away, but he didn't move. He just looked. Finally starting to get creeped out, she turned her brown eyes on him, trying to look as menacing as she could. She hoped the idea of direct confrontation would scare the strange old man away.

Instead, he seemed to take it as an invitation to come closer. Slowly, purposefully, he walked up to her perch on the table, gazing at her intently. "You see it, don't you?" he asked her, by way of greeting.

Cameron frowned, her unease growing with each passing moment. The guy smelled like he hadn't showered in a while, which matched the look of his clothes all too well, and only his very advanced age served to quell her fears that he was some kind of serial killer. Still, he was creepy, and Cameron had a feeling she probably shouldn't talk to him.

And so, she did.

"See what?" she asked bravely. She was not going to be cowed by a creepy old man, she found this place first, and she wasn't going to leave it. She had moved here a week ago, and this was her favorite spot, and she knew better than to back down. She lifted her hand to the water. "All I can see is the lake," she said, never taking her gaze from the old man. She _wasn't_ leaving.

The old man seemed to nod to himself, and for a moment, Cameron thought that he might leave now. However, she was proven wrong when, instead, the old man came to sit down beside her, looking out at the lake as though they were old mates. Cameron wasn't sure whether to get up or exclaim loudly, or both. But something within her caused her to stand her ground, and she resolved not to move from her spot (it was _hers_ , damn it!), but instead to continue sitting as if the old man wasn't there. She was still thinking this, when he spoke.

"Not many can see the lake," he said, causing Cameron to glance at him incredulously. "Some people can feel the breeze come off the water, and some can almost catch a glimpse, but most people just walk around it and ignore it," he explained, as though he were giving a lecture she had unknowingly signed up for. "It's hidden, here, from the rest of the world. But it can never hide from us. Not from creatures of magic."

Cameron's heart had fallen into her stomach as the old man spoke, and, for the briefest of moments, she began to wonder if it wasn't best just to leave after all. The old man was obviously mad, and while Cameron generally thought most rules given to children for their 'own good' were absolute rubbish, perhaps there was some sense in avoiding mad raving lunatics. And this man seemed to be one of those, with his talk of _magic_.

But, either from foolish rebellion against good sense, or from mere curiosity, Cameron decided to answer the crazy old man. "There's no such thing as magic," she announced dutifully, thinking that perhaps now, that she has refused to play along, the old man will sod off.

The abrupt, somewhat painful-sounding laugh indicated no such luck. The old man shook his head, his laugh becoming a chuckle, then just raspy breathing. "That's like saying, 'There is no sky,' or, 'There is no earth,'. Magic is a part of life. If you're still breathing, there's still such thing as magic," he pointed out, as though she had said something utterly foolish. He gestured then to a middle-aged woman walking briskly down the path, not casting a look in either their direction, or the lake's. "Go ask her, then. Ask if she can see the lake. Twenty pounds says she doesn't," he said, shrugging.

Cameron looked him over, dubiously. "Do you even _have_ twenty pounds?" she asked, earning a glare from the old man.

"Just ask," he said. As she wasn't budging, he said simply, "If you ask, and she says she sees it, I shall go away and leave you in peace," he promised solemnly.

The offer was too good to pass up.

Pushing down the nervousness that began to arise from the prospect of talking to a complete stranger (which she was already doing, why was she more nervous to talk to the normal looking woman than the deranged lunatic that came to sit by her?), she pushed herself up from the table, and rushed to meet the woman.

"Excuse me, quick question, please?" she asked, as politely as she knew, which she admitted to herself may not be much.

The woman barely cast her a glance. "I really haven't the time," she said, but Cameron, giving up on politeness, headed her off.

"That lake, over there, do you see it?" she asked directly, preferring to risk the wrath of a busy woman than to go back to the crazy old man empty-handed.

The woman, for her part, seemed almost not to answer her, then gave an exasperated sigh. "What lake?" she demanded, probably hoping Cameron would go away as fervently as she had wished it of the old man.

Cameron blinked. "That one right there," she said, pointing to the lake not five meters away. The woman glanced in the direction she indicated, then turned to give her a withering look.

"There is no lake. I don't have time for games, excuse me," she said, and quickened her pace, leaving Cameron behind.

Gazing out at the lake, Cameron felt as though ice water had been poured over her spine. It was here, it was real. She didn't realize she'd forgotten to breathe until she started to get light-headed, and drew in a deep breath, her eyes never leaving the surface of the water. The calm, unbroken surface, unaffected by wind or litter or time. Slowly, she took one step, then another, toward the lake. She never moved her gaze, not even for a second, lest it disappear and prove she was going mad. Or would it prove that she wasn't? Gingerly, she knelt on the grassy bank, her fingers in the cool grass, _it_ seemed real enough at least. One hand reached down, almost reverently, to touch the surface of the water…

Cool. Wet. It was water, and yet, it felt hot in a way, like those gels you rubbed into your muscles when they were sore, or toothpaste, or throat lozenges. Her hand tingled, like it was asleep, and she pulled it back quickly, gazing at the spot in the water she had just touched. Too quickly, the ripples eased, the surface becoming glassy and still, once again, and her reflection…

Wasn't her reflection. And it smiled at her.

And it disappeared.

"It's quite something, isn't it?" the old man's voice said, from her right, and she spun her head to see him there, sitting right beside her, as though he'd always been there. He made no movement, exuding calm, merely staring out at the water. Even so, it was everything Cameron could do not to run, not to bolt away on the spot. Her eyes wide, breath panicked, she stared at him for a long moment before she spoke.

"What… the hell?!" she demanded breathlessly, wrenching a wry grin from the old man, who glanced sideways at her, a spark of mirth hidden in his tired gaze.

"Magic," he said simply, gesturing to the lake. "The lake of Avalon is one of the few places left on earth where it can still be felt, and then, only by those who already have a connection to it. Like you…Cameron," he said, turning to gaze at her intently.

A shiver went through the girl, every instinct screamed at her to back away, to demand how the old man knew her name, to run back home and never come to this park, to this lake, again.

And yet, her eyes were drawn to the old man's, like magnets, and she could barely breathe, and answers to questions she didn't know how to ask whispered to her, too quiet for her to make them out, but insistent enough for her to understand that this moment, what was happening right now, was of utmost importance…

She felt like she was wearing a blindfold she couldn't rip off, no matter how much she itched to do so.

One question surfaced in her mind, slowly, as if her mind were the lake and all the questions she should ask had been stuck to the bottom, out of reach. The question, the first she asked, wasn't the first she thought she would have asked, had she had all of her wits about her, but now, in this moment, in this rare glimpse of reality, or illusion (she couldn't decide which), the question insisted it alone was the most important. Finding her power of speech after a frantic moment, she asked, "Who are you?"

A glimmer of surprise in the old man's eyes, an unseen, knowing smile behind them, and the weight of years and years and years as he regarded her silently for a long moment. "Oh, I've had many names. They say to know someone's true name, is to have power over them. Before I leave you for good, you'll truly know my name," he said to her, solemnly, as though he were bestowing upon her a gift.

Cameron blinked at that, silent for a moment. "Too daft to answer a simple question, then?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

With a sigh and narrowed eyes, he shook his head. "Call me Emrys," he grumbled.

"Magic, that how you know who I am, then, Mr. Emrys?" she asked, pulling glibness around her, a tenuous anchor to the reality she had abandoned the moment she approached the lake. She may have been caught up in the moment, in over her head, faced with impossible realities, but she absolutely refused to make it turn her into a twit.

The old man, for his part, merely grunted, getting up from the ground with great difficulty. Cameron merely sat there, watching him, until he finally managed to stand. Her gaze never left him, and she waited, expectantly, unwilling to relent until her question was answered.

But the old man didn't seem to be interested in answering, instead, he just began to walk away. For a moment, Cameron felt a twinge of loss as he did so, and frowned. "Come on, then," the old man called over his shoulder. "Ye aren't going to learn anything sitting there on your bum!" he said as he walked.

She didn't seem to remember getting up, but was soon following Mr. Emrys, her pace quickening to catch up. "Learn what?" she demanded. Good sense said, _'go home, forget all of this, don't follow the crazy bum to whatever dark alley he may try to kill you in,'_.

Cameron never listened to good sense…


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hope you liked my last chapter, please let me know what you think of this one!**

 **I do not own Merlin.**

Cameron's chest burned like fire as she ran through the street (if it could be called that, more a walkway between closely clustered buildings), desperately trying to separate herself from the sounds of a man shouting. It was very early morning, and while it was just light enough to see, people had not really come out of their houses yet. This meant both that Cameron had plenty of space in which to run…

And nowhere to hide.

Hearing the enraged guard get closer, she did the only thing she could, ducking into the unlocked _(had they even invented locks, yet?)_ door nearest her before he could get her in his line of sight. Closing the door behind her, she felt a split second of relief, until she realized she was inside someone's house. Swiftly, she spun around, hoping desperately that someone was still asleep.

The dark skinned woman standing less than a meter away from her, a heavy-looking pan gripped in her hands like a weapon, reminded Cameron once again that Sod's Law had been written specifically about her. 'If anything can go wrong, it will go _all kinds_ of bloody wrong for Cameron.'

"Look, wait! Please, I need help!" Cameron pleaded, her hands held up, both showing helplessness, and as a laughable defense against the thick iron skillet the woman held, should she choose to swing it. Her short, dark hair was wild and matted with leaves, her pale skin streaked with dirt, and her white Beatles t-shirt had certainly seen better days. Her hands and arms had scratches all over them, and there was a scrape on her chin. In short, it looked as though she had just been in a fight with a tree, and lost.

The young woman frowned, looking her over, then glancing towards the window. When her gaze flicked back to her, she asked, "Why are they looking for you?" She had yet to put down the frying pan.

Cameron swallowed hard. "It was just a misunderstanding, wasn't it? I walk into town, and this man stops me, asking me a bunch of questions. I tried to answer him, best I could, but then he started getting all handsy with me, grabbing my shoulders, like. So…" Cameron fidgeted somewhat, then stuck out her chin defiantly. "So, I kicked him, hard as I could, to shake him loose, and ran," she finished, her cheeks somehow becoming more crimson despite her no longer being out of breath.

The woman blinked at the tale, and went to the window, peering out of it, though she stood so that she was still facing Cameron, for the most part. Outside, the man in question walked down the street slowly, peering into every nook and cranny he came across. Something in the way he walked caused the woman to glance back at Cameron with a critical eye.

"Just where did you kick him?" she asked, concern and suspicion warring with some other unreadable emotion in her face.

Cameron shrugged. "Where it would do the most good," she said, looking away.

Because of this, however, she completely missed the twinkle in the woman's eyes and the hint of smile that slipped past her restraints. Looking once again out at the guard, then back at Cameron, she sighed. "I'm not in the practice of helping people sneak away from the castle guards," she said solemnly, then smiled slightly at the look Cameron gave her. "But that was Sir Tobin, and he rather had it coming," she said wryly, and put the pan gently on the table.

Cameron could feel relief roll off of her, and practically beamed. "Oh, thank you so much! You won't regret it, I promise," she said.

Smiling, the woman gave a slight shake of her head, indicating it was no problem (or perhaps, amusement at Cameron's situation, she wasn't sure). "I'm Gwen," she told her.

"Cameron," the girl replied, but whatever she was going to say next was interrupted by a somewhat less distant shout from the guard searching for her.

Casting a worried glance out the window, Gwen gently took Cameron by the arm and guided her behind what looked like a sort of wall made by a sheet or something. Behind it was a bed and a simple wooden chest. Opening the chest, the woman rummaged around, and finally pulled out a long white dress, and a pale yellow one. "Put these on," she said softly, laying them on the bed. When Cameron hesitated, she raised an eyebrow. "You don't want Sir Tobin to recognize you, do you?" she asked, looking the girl over critically.

Cameron frowned, taking a step forward. Wearing a disguise was probably a good idea, after all. The guard - Sir Tobin - probably wouldn't have started questioning her if she had looked like everyone else. "Both of them, though?" she asked, a bit confused as she looked down at the two dresses. The white one was plain and had long sleeves, and the yellow seemed to be sleeveless and worn, but still somewhat pretty.

Gwen was giving her a strange look. "Have you always worn trousers?" she asked incredulously. At Cameron's obvious confusion, she pointed to the white dress. "This one goes on first, then this one over it," she said, pointing to the yellow dress second. Going into the chest again, she pulled out a long strip of white linen. "Hurry, then, we haven't much time. Sir Tobin may decide to start knocking on doors," she said quietly.

Panicked, Cameron quickly turned around and started pulling off her t-shirt and kicking off her trainers. She pulled out the contents of her jeans pockets and laid the items on the bed gently… just a few pound notes, her ipod, and her identification card for the Home. Then her jeans slid off in a heap on the ground, and she pulled the white dress over her head, fighting to find the neck hole… she'd never seen so much fabric in one piece of clothing!

Unseen by her, Gwen was gazing at the items she had pulled out of her pockets curiously. By the time Cameron's head emerged from the white monstrosity, the woman had her ID in her hands, reading it. "What is this?" Gwen asked, her voice sounding small. "It has your likeness on it, I've never seen such detail before," she said breathlessly.

Cameron frowned slightly, her eyes going back to the money and the ipod. Well, this was proof she was well outside her own time… the woman had grabbed the one thing without value.

 _'Or maybe, she is just a decent person,'_ she scolded herself mentally, before answering. "It's my ID. The place I live at, the doors are magnetically locked. That's got a chip in it that opens the door. Then I show it to the woman guarding the entrance inside, and she matches my face to the picture, and lets me in," she said, lifting the yellow dress over her head once she got her arms into the white one. Come to think of it, if security in this place had been nearly as strict as the security at the Home, Cameron would never have made it this far.

Gwen was holding the card out a bit from her person, turning her gaze from it, back to Cameron, who had disappeared once again inside a dress. "Is it magic?" she asked, only a hint of fear sounding in her voice.

Cameron hadn't noticed, though, and scoffed from inside the folds of fabric, still trying to find the exit. " _Magic_? From the _Home_? Those clots are about as magic as a wad of gum. It's got a microchip in it, is all. Technology," she said, finally pulling the yellow dress over her head. It had been a bit harder, since she didn't have the feel of it against her skin guiding her through it. She started smoothing it over the white one, when she caught Gwen's look. Suddenly, she sobered. "Oh… right…" she murmured. Cameron bit her lip, wondering if she would always be this daft, or if it was something she would eventually grow out of. "Probably shouldn't have mentioned it..." she said, worry squeezing her stomach like a vice.

Gwen gazed at her hard. "You are going to tell me _everything_. And then, then, I'll decide whether or not to help you. Understood?" she said, her tone brooking no argument.

Cameron nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat. Absently she picked leaves out of her hair as she spoke. "Well, I'm from the future," she started, thinking to herself that this was probably exactly what she should NOT say to anyone else while she was here. "Probably around a thousand years in the future, not sure exactly, though. A lot's changed, we've got plastic keys, and lorries, and computers and such," she said, wondering just how much she should explain.

The look Gwen gave her reminded Cameron of the history teacher she had last year. She squirmed slightly. "If you're from the future, what are you doing here?" she asked the girl.

Cameron's eyes were hooded as she thought back to the events leading her here. "I'll tell you... but it won't make much sense. Not quite sure I understand it myself," she said, and began her tale of the events of the last three months...


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you guys for reading this far. As I'm sure you've seen in other works, large blocks of text that are italicized indicate a flashback. There will be a lot of those... Cameron has had three months with Mr. Emrys, after all. ;)  
**

 **I do not own Merlin.**

 _They were standing in the lake, the water up to their waists, a heavy mist surrounding them. Cameron had been shivering violently, trying hard not to let her teeth chatter, lest the three men in suits standing on the shore hear her. They were casting about, each man holding something in his hand (tasers, Cameron knew), and did not look as though they would give up._

 _Mr. Emrys, who's hands were gripping Cameron's arms protectively, squeezed them to get her attention. When she gazed at him, he said softly, "You must remember everything I am telling you, Cameron. This is very important."_

 _All of Cameron's questions died on her lips at his stern gaze, something he had never really used on her. Always before she had seen a twinkle of mirth in his eyes, perhaps a mock glare, or a flicker of annoyance, or even a solemn look when he spoke of magic and things to come. But never had he been stern with her, and something within her fluttered, as her very soul seemed to come to attention. She nodded, her eyes never leaving his._

 _"I am sending you to Camelot," he told her, gazing deeply into her eyes, as if he were talking not just to her, but to something within her. "Seek me there. I will teach you what you need to know," he told her, in no uncertain terms. "You are important, Cameron. You are the Path, through which the Once and Future King will bring magic back to the world." His attention shifted. The men were doing something, setting up a device, and Mr. Emrys tensed. Cameron could feel panic from him for a moment, but it was soon covered by a small smile as he turned back to her, releasing his grip on her arms to take her left hand, placing it palm up in his. On it was the mark he had given her during their first lesson, a bird. Usually it looked like a rough sketch, so light no one ever really saw it unless they were looking for it, but when Mr. Emrys was around, it was darker, more detailed, and almost seemed to move. It did now, ever so slightly, as Mr. Emrys stroked it lightly with his thumb. "I will always watch over you, Cameron. Remember that," he said to her, meeting her eyes once again. Cameron fidgeted, caught between worry for what the men were doing, and unease with the deep affection Mr. Emrys always seemed to have for her, as though he saw in her much, much more than just a student._

 _Then she could feel it. Magic, welling up around them. Mr. Emrys was calling forth the magic of Avalon, he was going to do a spell. Cameron had seen it only a handful of times, Mr. Emrys had told her there was very little magic left in the world, and every time he did it, the Lake of Avalon shrank. The hair on her arms and on the back of her neck stood on end, and her breath caught in her chest. With the amount of power he was calling up, Cameron knew what he was about to do would be a very big spell, and she wondered in a moment of panic if he were going to use all the magic Avalon had left. Her stomach tightened as his eyes began to glow golden, and he placed a hand on her head._

 _The words he whispered were unusual, nonsensical, but seared into her mind so thoroughly, Cameron seemed to know them better than she knew her own name…_

"What are you doing, girl, taking a nap?" a sharp voice asked, and Cameron shook herself out of her reverie.

Knowing better _(this time)_ than to stop and answer the question directly, Cameron turned her attention on scrubbing at a faster pace. "No, Miss Audrey," she said softly, knowing the old woman who ran the kitchen didn't really care to hear what she had to say, just wanted to see her working faster. Indeed, by this time, the woman had already turned her attention to someone else she thought might be slacking.

Cameron tried not to think about her work. It had been three days since she'd been in Camelot, and Gwen, who had been a true mate _(if a bit distrustful at first)_ , had found her a job in the castle's kitchen. Not only would it help Cameron to pay her keep _(apparently, life was hard here for everyone, even the royalty in the castle, from what she'd heard from Gwen)_ , it would also give her almost complete invisibility. After all, who really noticed a servant? Much less, a kitchen wench…

And that invisibility was important, because Cameron still had not found Mr. Emrys. She had walked through the marketplace, through the halls of the castle on her errands, even down to the dungeons _,_ on the pretext of bringing food to the guards down there. He was nowhere to be found.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Lifting her left hand from the scrubbing brush after a flick of a gaze at the head cook _(to make sure she wasn't looking)_ , she gazed at her palm. The bird on it was there, in full detail, Cameron could even make out individual feathers. It had only ever been this detailed when Mr. Emrys was nearby, looking over her shoulder, almost. Cameron resisted the urge to do just that. It had been this detailed ever since she started working in the castle, but that hadn't helped her to find him. Unless he was invisible, and was playing a prank on her, Cameron could only assume that this level of detail in her mark no longer meant that Mr. Emrys was right next to her.

She had a theory about it, but hadn't mentioned it to Gwen, just like she hadn't really mentioned the mark to Gwen. Gwen wasn't very comfortable with the subject of magic, though Cameron didn't think she was really scared by the idea. It was more like, she was scared of talking about magic, as if someone might overhear them. And Cameron knew why, of course.

Camelot had outlawed all magic, on penalty of death.

The very idea befuddled Cameron. Yes, she had learned about the Inquisition in school, and she had known that, during the Middle Ages _(which is where she was now, she assumed)_ , people were highly superstitious, and it was not uncommon for someone to be burned for being a witch. But, history lessons just did not seem to mesh with the legends of Camelot. After all, didn't King Arthur wield a magical sword, Excalibur? Didn't he have a wizard advising him, protecting him? Didn't he battle dragons, and speak to ladies in lakes, and consult oracles? Camelot was the one place Cameron had expected to find magic everywhere. And yet, people were afraid to even discuss it.

Of course, that might be because Arthur was not the king. At least, not yet. When Cameron had mentioned King Arthur to Gwen, hoping to learn what parts of the legend were true, she had learned that the king of Camelot was a man named Uther Pendragon, but that he had a son named Arthur. Of course, princes eventually became kings, but the way Cameron had always heard the story, Arthur wasn't of noble birth, he had been just a normal boy when he pulled Excalibur from the stone, proving to everyone he was destined to become king.

But then, perhaps she shouldn't base too much expectation on what she saw on the telly…

When she learned that magic was illegal here, she had decided to leave the legend of King Arthur out of the story she had told Gwen. After all, if she couldn't trust all of the legend, she couldn't trust any of it, now, could she? If there was no magic in Camelot, if the tales of Excalibur were untrue, then probably Merlin didn't exist here, either. Which would have made things much easier, if he had. Another sorcerer may be able to help her find Mr. Emrys, and Merlin had been the greatest sorcerer who ever lived. But all she had to help her was what she remembered from an old animated telly program, and her mark.

Cameron's theory was based on the things Mr. Emrys had taught her, all of which she had been going over and over in her mind lately. Most of what he had taught her had been about the basic nature of magic, where it could be found, and, most importantly, what was happening to it. He had told her that, the very fabric of the world was woven with magic, that there was magic in everything. Humanity, in its greed, was destroying the world, and with it, was destroying the bonds of magic. The destruction of the rainforests, the extinction of hundreds of species, the pollution of the air and water and earth, all weakened magic, and therefore weakened magic's protection of the world. Holes began to appear in the protective barrier that surrounded the world, the barrier which allowed life to thrive on this one planet, where nothing was able to do so on any of the others in their solar system. Great earthquakes, tsunamis, fires, floods, all were signs of the breaking of these bonds.

The worst was that the magic in people was fading. He had told her that, there was once a time when many were born with magic. That, while some had no idea they even had it, magic lived, to some degree, in everyone. That a number of people had the potential even to use it to their will, that those were the sorcerers and witches in the stories she'd heard. He told her that, many of the early religions were started because, when a group of people banded together under a common cause, sometimes their magic would pool together, and cause miracles to happen. Some feared it, some worshipped it, some used it, but it was there, it existed, it lived in the souls of most people, whether they could feel it or not.

Only, over time, the amount began to be less and less. People who could bend magic to their will were hunted, slaughtered, and while their magic was always released upon their deaths, it had increasingly fewer places to go. At some point, creatures of magic began storing this excess magic back into nature, in trees and rivers and winds.

And then, humanity began destroying that, too.

In Cameron's time, very few people were born with any magic at all. The magic in the world had been weakened almost to the point of nonexistence. And that was even without interference from men like Price. Cameron shuddered at the mere thought of the man.

Cameron was one of the few people left in the world who had magic. It was only a tiny bit, she was sure, from what Mr. Emrys had said, though he rarely spoke about that. She was able to see the Lake of Avalon, something he had told her only a person with magic could do. She was able to sense the void around certain buildings, places where things were being done to actively destroy what magic was left in the world. She could sense when magic was being used. But Mr. Emrys had never tried teaching her any spells, which implied Cameron didn't have enough magic to actually do one. It was disappointing, but, she had never imagined herself to be a sorceress, anyway. It was enough that she knew of magic's existence, when everyone else around her thought it to be a fairy tale. It made her special.

Once she had finished the floors, Cameron was told to empty her bucket and fetch water for the next morning. The bucket of filthy water was heavy, and Cameron tried to walk slowly with it, knowing that if she spilled any in the halls of the castle, she would be the one to clean it up, and the old cook might box her ears again if she did. Her head still smarted from the last time she had done so.

There may be no magic in her time, but at least there were laws against cruelty to children, Cameron thought as she made her way.

Her left palm tingled again, and she frowned. When she had been unable to find Mr. Emrys, despite how distinct her mark was, she had theorized that, since magic was stronger in this time, her mark, which was made out of magic, would also be stronger. How much stronger, though, Cameron did not know. She did know she was on the right track, coming to Camelot, and not only because Mr. Emrys had told her to. When she had first emerged in this time, she had been in the Lake of Avalon, and her mark had been faint, then. She had used it to find her way, as she had done many times before, looking for Mr. Emrys. In Camelot, it was bright, distinct, and so, she knew Mr. Emrys must be here, somewhere.

But it had been three days. For all of it's being a castle, Camelot was rather small, when compared to the cities Cameron had always lived in. It was much more like a small town. Surely, Cameron would have seen him by now. Unless he were hiding from her, but why do that, if he had told her to seek him out? Mr. Emrys might test her, but it wasn't really like him to play games just for the fun of it.

"Oi!" she exclaimed suddenly, when one of the servants had come around the corner rather quickly, causing water to slosh out of her bucket and onto the floor. Cameron cursed aloud, quickly putting her bucket down on the floor, lest more water spill from it.

"Sorry," the servant said, surveying the mess. Cameron had wrung out the dirty cloth that was in the bucket, and was now trying to sop up the water in the puddle, fully expecting the servant to rush off without giving her a second thought.

She was rather surprised when a dry cloth dropped to the floor to meet her wet one.

The servant's eyes were on the puddle he was helping her clean, but Cameron was studying him. Dark hair, blue eyes, thin, but tall, from what she could tell. Young, but not like her… if this had been her own time, he might have been a university student. Maybe early twenties. "Thanks," she murmured, turning her attention back to the work at hand. Absently, she rubbed at her left hand. The tingling was getting worse, and she wondered if it had to with being soaked in water. Her fingertips were wrinkled enough.

"Are you alright?" the servant asked, and Cameron's stomach clenched. What was she thinking? Quickly, she gripped her damp towel with her left hand instead of her right, and nodded. Feeling it become fully saturated with the water, she pivoted to wring it into the bucket. Her hand twitched, then, causing her to drop her towel before it made its destination. She glanced at her hand, trying to see what was the matter, and her breath caught as she saw.

Her mark was moving. She could feel it moving, beneath her skin. The bird's wings were moving slowly, before her eyes, as though it were taking flight.

A sound from the servant, and Cameron's eyes went wide as she quickly hid her hand in the folds of her skirt. One look at his face told her that her horrible luck had not forgotten her… he had seen. She swallowed hard, just knowing he was going to turn her in. "Thanks, I think I got it from here," she said quickly, hoping against hope he would be willing to forget what he had seen and go on.

His eyes met hers, as though searching for something, and for a moment, Cameron felt like he were peering into her very soul.

And the next moment, he was giving her a lopsided grin, wringing his now wet cloth out in the bucket. "Here, why don't you keep this one, I was just returning it, anyway," he said.

Shaking her head slightly to clear it, she breathed, realizing she'd been holding her breath. "Sure, thanks," she said to him, and wrung her towel out, as well. The floor was damp, but the puddle was gone, the rest would dry soon. She got up off her hands and knees, and picked up the bucket and towels. She wondered how long it had taken to clean up the spill, and realized with a shock that the cook would be looking for her soon. "I have to go!" she said, alarmed, and made her way down the corridor as fast as she could without spilling any more of the water, hoping fervently that the other servant would just forget about her.

Merlin watched the girl run off, his eyes hooded, the smile gone from his face. Glancing around, he turned the opposite direction he had come from, walking towards the stairs that would lead him to the court physician's rooms.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Here we are, chapter 3, and hopefully chapter 4 will come tomorrow. Thanks to all who are following my story, you've no idea how much it helps to know someone out there is reading this!**

 **I do not own Merlin.**

The court physician's room was always a bit on the stuffy side. Often, Gaius would have a candle lit somewhere, whether it was to allow him to see which books were in the darker corners of his many bookshelves, or as a heat source for when he needed to warm the contents of a vial or the small clay bowl he sometimes used for such purposes. Work needed to be done, after all, no matter what temperature it was outside, and an open window meant papers blown about and snuffed out candle flames. The smells of different herbs, old leather, and dust combined to make a smell that was uniquely the physicians's, and over the years, Merlin had come to associate that smell with comfort and home.

It served to calm the young warlock only somewhat, and his jaw was set as his eyes frantically searched the area for Gaius. He found the old man to his left, stooped down in front of a bookshelf, candle in hand. He was obviously looking for something. Merlin slowed his approach, lips pressed together, curiosity warring with the import of his question. After a moment, a compromise had been reached. "What are you looking for?" he asked.

Gaius winced, startled, and inwardly Merlin grimaced – gradual loss of hearing was a curse of aging. His own aging spell had taught him that much. Gaius covered his lapse well, however, turning slightly in Merlin's direction, eyebrow raised. "I'm almost certain I had a text here concerning herb lore and local superstition in the village of Caerwyll," he said, suppressing a groan as he stood. "Did you know, they would rub onion juice over the entirety of their bodies, every night before bed, to ward off sickness?" he said, stretching slightly to straighten out his back. He glanced at his ward, and instead of the incredulous grin and spark of mirth he expected to see in the boy's eyes, they had a more distant look. Gaius's expression became serious, in turn. "What is it?" he asked, knowing that if Merlin was worried about something, things may already be well out of hand.

Merlin's eyes met his, the expression the solemn one Gaius had come to associate with the boy more and more over the last year. He didn't like seeing that look, and though he knew it meant Merlin was growing up, it also meant he was losing his innocence. "What do you know about marks?" he asked.

The seemingly innocuous question given with so serious an expression caused Gaius to blink, thinking he hadn't heard correctly. "Marks?" he asked, confused.

Merlin was nodding. "The kind on the skin," he added, as though that cleared everything up.

It didn't. "You mean, from some sort of injury?" Gaius asked, his mind always going to his practice first.

"No," Merlin said, frowning. "Like, the type the druids have. Only, different," he said. "This one was in the shape of a bird," he added, his eyes seeming distant for a moment.

Gaius tilted his head, frowning slightly, and moving toward another bookshelf. "I've seen quite a few in my day, in many shapes and for a variety of reasons. You'll have to be more specific," he said, trying to remember where he had placed his book on tribal markings.

"Well, this one was on a servant girl's hand," Merlin said, his sharp eyes following his mentor. "And it moved."

Gaius stopped at that, and after a long moment, turned around. "It _moved_?" he asked, one moment showing disbelief, the next concern. "Moved how?"

"Like it was flying," Merlin said, his expression grave. "Right there on her hand." He gazed at some spot away and behind Gaius, in another expression Gaius was familiar with on the boy's face. "It was magic, Gaius. I could feel it," he said, his gaze still distant.

"A magical mark," Gaius muttered, easing himself into a chair. "On her hand, you say? Where exactly?"

Merlin shook his head, as if to clear it. "Uh, on the palm. Right here," he said, holding out his left hand and pointing to the spot.

"On the _left_ hand?" Gaius asked, frowning as Merlin nodded. He sighed, shaking his head. "There are a number of reasons behind magical marks. Sometimes a sorcerer will use one to mark those he has cursed…" he said.

"So the servant girl is cursed?" Merlin asked, warily.

Gaius shrugged his shoulders. "Though, usually those will disappear and then re-appear, to warn the victim of their impending peril, they don't usually move," he said thoughtfully. "A moving mark… I've never heard of one on the skin, but were it on a map, I would say it was a tracking spell," he continued.

"Tracking spell?" Merlin questioned.

Sighing, Gaius pursed his lips. "A tracking spell is exactly what it sounds like. It is possible to enchant a map to track a person, wherever he may be. Whenever the person moves, the mark symbolizing him moves along the map. I can't imagine it would be useful on someone's hand, however," he said grimly. He shook his head. "Other than that, marks on a person's skin could mean anything from a declaration of possession, affiliation, achievement, crime, or even memory of a loved one. However, to have one move the way you describe…" he held his hands out, palms up. "I'm afraid I've never heard of such a thing."

It was Merlin's turn to sigh. "Do you think this could be Morgana's work?" he asked, the pain of recent events concerning her still fresh in his mind. He knew she was planning something, he had seen her attempt on Uther's life in the crystal, and though that attempt had been thwarted, he was not foolish enough to believe she wouldn't try again. And she was well-placed within the castle walls, she would have the opportunity.

"For what purpose?" Gaius asked, bringing Merlin back to the present. "If Morgana wished to curse the servant, I can think of a number of easier ways to do so, all without using a mark that would give the curse away to others," he said.

"What if the girl is a spy for Morgana?" Merlin asked, voicing his earlier suspicion.

Gaius raised an eyebrow at that. "Morgana is already in the castle. She is in position to hear and see much more than a servant would, and she would be allowed more places," he responded. Merlin nodded, having figured as much even as Gaius pointed it out. "If she were a spy, of some sort, it would be for someone else," Gaius continued.

Merlin blinked at that. "Another sorcerer?" he asked. ' _Haven't we already met our quota of evil entities plotting against Camelot?',_ he thought.

"You should keep an eye on this servant," Gaius said, standing up. "Let me know what else you find out. Perhaps a bit more knowledge will light our way," he said, gazing at his ward.

Merlin nodded once, giving him a half-smirk in thanks, then left.

Gaius frowned to himself. Camelot, it seemed, was fending off magical entities like vultures lately…


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey, guys! Thank you so very much for the lovely reviews! They make my whole day, they really do.** **Here's the next chapter, sorry if it's short, I'm trying to get each bit up as I write it (so I don't lose my nerve!).**

 **I do not own Merlin.**

She was useless.

Cameron stood hidden in the storage room, eyes closed. She had been sent to fetch flour for tonight's pastries, but was taking the moment of privacy to try once again to find her teacher.

And fail miserably.

Not long ago, Cameron hadn't even believed in the existence of magic, so finding that she had any at all was a novelty to her. Of course, in a world where magic was dying, she didn't really view it as a super power or anything, but more like a curiosity, as one would view a member of an endangered species one saw in the zoo. She no more expected to do great things with magic than she would expect to keep a koala as a pet. Mr. Emrys did nothing to raise her expectations of doing such, confirming Cameron's suspicions concerning her own abilities, and had only taught her how to do one thing.

Cameron could sense magic.

Every day she spent with Mr. Emrys, they worked on that ability. How many times had she been told to find him, in just this way, using her magic? And yet, despite all that training, when it really mattered, she was completely lost.

It was because of this place, she knew. Camelot. This place was filled with magic, from its very depths, to the towers above. It was in the very walls around her, as though the castle itself had been made with magic. In her own time, her senses revealed varying shades of grey, swirls of black darkness, with a few brighter smudges, and the warm, pulsating light that was Mr. Emrys, and the Lake of Avalon. After the first month, she didn't even have to use her mark to know she had found him. Against a backdrop of grays and blacks, he had been easy to find.

Now everything was bright, and while some areas were brighter than others, the sheer force of it disoriented her, so that she had trouble focusing on just one source of magic. It was as though she had lived in a dark room her whole life, and was only now brought into the light.

And yet, _here_ she was more alone than she had ever been. Her very life was in danger. Camelot, for being a veritable beacon of magic, had banished it so thoroughly, those caught helping anyone with magic were executed. Gwen had told Cameron about her father, and Cameron had cried then, realizing just what she had brought upon the woman for her kindness. She had volunteered to leave, but Gwen wouldn't hear of it, stating that her father had always taught her to do the right thing, no matter the consequences. Cameron could tell Gwen was sympathetic to magic users, if only secretly… she was the sort of person who cared more about what was in a person's heart, than what they were capable of. Though that did not stop the look of relief the woman had when Cameron had told her she wasn't really a sorceress.

It wasn't a lie. A sorceress would have been able to find Mr. Emrys. She had been trained solely to do that very thing, and had her magical senses, as well as the mark her teacher had given her, to track and find him. And yet, here she was, alone, in the storage room beside the kitchen…

Crying.

Angrily, she came out of her trance and wiped the tears from her face. "Where are you, Mr. Emrys?" she asked the empty room softly, swallowing back a sob. Wiping once again at her face, she turned and collected the flour she had been sent for. Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the storage room.

And spotted him there, just down the corridor.

Watching her.

' _Act natural,'_ she scolded herself, turning to walk toward the kitchens, trying to ignore the way her stomach clenched at the sight of the servant from earlier. All day long, he had been watching her from afar, severely limiting her opportunities to search for Mr. Emrys. He seemed to expect her to do something. _'Probably magic,'_ she thought, the idea causing her to smirk. Well, maybe having barely any magic to speak of was a good thing? It meant the servant could watch her all he wanted, and when she didn't turn anyone into a toad or start moving pots and pans with her mind, he might get bored and leave her alone.

If only her mark would stop moving.

She felt it again, itching her palm, the only reason she hadn't given up yet. He had to be here somewhere, the mark wasn't meant to sense just any magic, it was only meant to sense Mr. Emrys. He was here.

Which meant, he was either hiding from her, or unable to get to her. Cameron had decided to believe the latter, because if she did find out it had been the former, she had a fist just waiting to express her displeasure to him, teacher or not! Though, she had to admit, it wasn't that unlike him to draw out a game like this to teach her something new.

But he would never endanger her life.

No, he was here, and he was trapped somewhere. She just had to find out where. And she had to do it somehow without that servant finding out about him. Because, Mr. Emrys _was_ a sorcerer… er, warlock, though Cameron didn't think there was a difference, really. At any rate, he was one of the ones the king was out to kill, and Cameron wasn't about to let that happen.

" _I'll find you_ ," she whispered softly, as she got back to work.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you so much to all who reviewed! I promise, the reveal will come soon, but it wouldn't be any fun if I just made everything all roses at once, would it? LOL!**

 **I don't own Merlin.**

"Well, _I_ think you're overreacting," Gwen said, twisting the lavender cloth in her hands until water dripped from it to the half-full bucket at Cameron's knees. "See, like this, else it will take days to dry," she instructed the girl. A fire was going in the hearth to her side, giving the small house a warm glow, and the smell of stew filled the air.

Cameron nodded, taking the half-wrung dress back from the young woman, trying not to complain about how much her hands ached. With all her might, she twisted until she was rewarded with a few more drips of water, as Gwen went back to the stew on the hearth. "I'm telling you, he's following me. I saw him all day today as well, at the end of a corridor here, around the corner there. I've watched the stranger danger videos, I know when I'm being stalked," she said, her anger and worry enabling her hands to twist that much harder, earning her even more water wrung from the dress.

Gwen frowned slightly, trying to remember what Cameron had told her 'videos' were. She came up blank. "Do you know which servant it is?" she asked, stirring the pot over the hearth.

"No," Cameron said, wringing just a bit more water out. "I asked Lucia once when I spotted him, but by the time she looked, he had disappeared again," she added. "I don't know anyone's names yet, really, just some of the kitchen staff, and you," she said, casting her friend a lopsided grin.

Gwen smiled back, raising an eyebrow as she did. "He could just be an admirer," she said, a spark of mirth in her eyes as she moved the pot away from the flame.

Cameron snorted at that. "God, I hope you're joking. That would be so creepy," she said, with a shudder. At Gwen's confused look, she explained, "He's too old, he's, like, your age. No offense, but I'm only 13, I'm still a kid. Well… in my time, I'm a kid… I guess here, girls my age get married all the time, don't they?" she asked.

Gwen shrugged as she fetched two wooden bowls. "Well, if you're 13, you're certainly old enough to catch the eye of a suitor," she responded, placing the bowls on the table. "That should be good enough, go ahead and hang it up, supper is ready," she instructed.

Nodding, Cameron stood, her back and hands aching, and untwisted the dress as she hung it on the line before the fire, already feeling steam arise from the material. "In my time, we're not old enough to marry until we're 18, unless our parents consent. We date a bit earlier than that, though," she said, sitting down. "Mmm, thanks," she said, indicating the stew in her bowl.

The stew was meager, it didn't have a lot in it, but after her first night with Gwen, she knew better than to complain. Food was scarce for peasants, it was a fact of life. Gwen smiled at the compliment. "At any rate," Cameron continued, between mouthfuls of broth, "he's not my type. Too old, too tall, too gangly, and… just, weird."

Gwen ate a spoonful of stew, contemplating. "Tall and gangly, you said?" she asked after a moment. "And my age?" Cameron nodded. "Is he dark, or fair?" she asked.

"Pale, with dark hair," Cameron responded. "Blue eyes… sort of, piercing, you know? Bloke sort of looks like his skull is trying to escape his skin," she said, hoping it wasn't an overly insensitive remark… servants weren't exactly the most well-fed people, after all.

A laugh burst out of Gwen at that, and once she could breath, she said, "I know who your admirer is, then."

Cameron swallowed. "Who?" she asked, knowing the name would mean very little to her, though it might be nice to know who it was she was trying to avoid.

"Merlin, Prince Arthur's manservant," Gwen said triumphantly, humor in her eyes. "He must have taken a liking to you," she mused, not noticing how pale Cameron suddenly was.

 _Merlin._ Of course he would be here. Her earlier assumption that Merlin didn't exist here was based on the fact that magic was illegal, and no one in their right _mind_ would live in a place where their very existence was against the law, not if they had a choice. But the whole castle seemed to be magic, at least compared to what Cameron was used to, so…

But, Merlin was supposed to be an old man. And if this servant really was the greatest sorcerer who ever lived, then why was he stalking her? Why would he be suspicious of magic at all?

' _It must be a common name'_ , she thought, though it seemed entirely too coincidental. Someone named Merlin, in Camelot, it had to be the same one, hadn't it?

"Are you all right, Cameron?" Gwen asked, when the girl had been silent for a long moment. She frowned. "You don't have anything to worry about, really. I know Merlin, he's a friend of mine. He's nice, he's a bit clumsy, but that's about as dangerous as he gets. Look, if you'd like, I can speak to him tomorrow, and find out why he's been following you," she offered.

Cameron's eyes widened in alarm. She hadn't told Gwen about her mark, she had hoped to spare her any further magical involvement. If Merlin told her why he had been following her… "No, no, that won't be necessary," she said desperately, merely earning another laugh from Gwen.

"Don't worry, I won't be obvious about it," the woman responded, taking their empty bowls and pot to the wash bucket.

"Oh, please don't say anything," Cameron tried again. At Gwen's doubtful glance, she thought frantically. "It's just… I don't want to embarrass him, if he…"

Gwen smiled knowingly. "Alright. I won't mention it, if he doesn't," she said. Cameron nodded begrudgingly, knowing that was as good as she was going to get. "Do you remember how to tend the fire?" she asked. In addition to taking the future girl in, Gwen had taken it upon herself to teach her everything she needed to know about peasant life. It was a matter of safety for the both of them, after all.

"Yeah," Cameron responded, and did so as Gwen cleaned the pot and bowls.

Once their chores for the night were done, they both went to sleep. Cameron laid down on the straw pallet Gwen had pulled out for her and placed in the corner near the hearth. It was nice, actually, once she had gotten used to bits of straw poking at her back. It was worn, as though it had been used by someone else, and Cameron didn't have to think long about it before realizing it must have been Gwen's father's.

To be killed for helping someone. Cameron didn't care what the bloody stories said, the King of Camelot was truly evil. Yet another thing she'd like to have a nice conversation with Mr. Emrys about, if she ever found him.

 _When,_ she told herself, pulling the blanket higher over her shoulder. _When_ she found him. Her last thoughts as she drifted off to sleep were that, if the _servant_ Merlin were really the _wizard_ Merlin, then maybe he would help her.

Unless he was evil, too…


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Well, my lovely readers, I'm sure you've all been wondering where in the series we are, and in this chapter, you will all find out! To all of you who were wanting a confrontation between Cameron and Merlin, here you go!**

 **I do not own Merlin.**

The castle was bustling with activity as everyone prepared for the arrival of Lord Godwyn and his daughter. For Cameron, that meant peeling potatoes as fast as she could without cutting herself, with constant breaks to fetch more water, fetch supplies, and empty the bucket of food leavings into the pig's slop outside. Lucia had secretly pressed a hunk of bread into her hand on one of her trips outside, which Cameron ate gratefully. This would likely be all she had for a midday meal.

Cameron was glad to be so busy. All day today, she had been running back and forth on the same predictable path, and not once had she spotted Merlin peering at her from anywhere. And that was a good thing, because after their conversation yesterday, Cameron had lost all hope of him ever helping her. Now she was more concerned with being turned into a toad.

She had been nervous before going to meet him, full of doubts. First of all, after her conversation with Gwen the other night, Cameron had focused her senses on him only to find that _he_ had been the source of much of the magic that surrounded this place. It emanated from him, seeping into everything he touched, lighting up every place he'd been. And as a servant, Merlin had been all over this castle, making it impossible for her to find Mr. Emrys. Cameron had to wonder if that was by accident, or by design. Second of all, he always seemed so friendly and cheerful to everyone else, but when she caught him glancing at her, his eyes were always cold, and full of suspicion. Cameron didn't know if he were friendly by nature and just had a problem with _her_ , or if he were naturally cold and suspicious, and just put on a show for everyone else. Either way, it put her on edge.

Then there was the fact that he hadn't turned her in, yet. Of course, it could be that he was just a good person, but if that were the case, why was he following her? But then, he would have his own reasons for keeping quiet, wouldn't he? He wouldn't want questions asked about his own magic, for starters, though she held no illusions about who would be believed should it ever be her word against his. Also, Gwen had told her that Merlin was a friend of hers, and if he really did care for Gwen's well-being, then he wouldn't want to out Cameron as a sorceress, lest Gwen also be punished for helping her. But Cameron was more leery of the third reason why he wouldn't want to turn her in, and it was the reason that kept her awake most nights, the reason that was foremost on her mind when she had gone to confront him. She feared that, should Merlin wish to be rid of her, all he had to do was turn all that great magical power upon her, and there would be no more Cameron. Ironically, she had started to understand why the king feared magic so.

But those doubts weren't enough to snuff out her spark of hope, and she had gone to see him anyway, thinking that, perhaps with a powerful sorcerer helping her, she could find Mr. Emrys and be back again in the land of pizza and late night movies.

It had not gone well.

* * *

 _She waited for him in the corridor outside of the Court Physician's residence, where Gwen had told her Merlin lived. She had gone very early in the morning, not wanting to miss him, and was there for almost an hour when she was startled by the door flying open and Merlin knocking her over. Cameron's eyes had gone wide in fright, believing she was being attacked, and Merlin's eyes had narrowed. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, a dangerous note in his otherwise quiet tone._

 _Cameron clenched her fists, still not sure if he would attack her, and stepped back warily, eyeing him. "We need to talk," she said, trying to get the words she had been rehearsing in her mind all night long out in the open before she lost her nerve. "I know what you are," she said quickly, sounding a bit more sharp than she had intended._

 _It was Merlin's turn to look startled, and his gaze got colder. "I don't know what you mean," he said carefully._

 _Cameron's jaw clenched at that. "Really? You're going to stand there and lie to me? Even if I couldn't see what you were for myself, I'd know what you were when you didn't turn me over to the guard! So how about we drop the act?" she hissed angrily._

 _Merlin's eyes grew guarded, and in a low, even tone, he demanded, "What do you want here?"_

 _Cameron's fears tripled. Drawing on every last shred of gall she had left, she responded. "I'm looking for a sorcerer named Emrys," she said, watching him carefully as she did. She had to know, did Merlin have him trapped somewhere? She had been here so long, searched so many places, the only way she could think she hadn't found him yet was if he had been turned into something she wouldn't recognize._

 _Some type of emotion flashed through his features, but she couldn't define what it was, and it was soon hidden again. "I'm sorry, I can't help you," he responded._

 _He was lying, Cameron could tell. He was hiding something. Cameron glanced down at her hand, her mark was moving, the bird lifting its wings slowly, circling. She narrowed her eyes at Merlin. "He's here. I'll find him. And when I do…" she started, trailing off. What? Would she threaten the most powerful sorcerer in history?_

 _Merlin responded to the unspoken threat by stepping toward her, his face inches from hers. "Whatever you're after, forget it. Leave Camelot, go back to where you came from," he said, his voice a tight whisper._

 _Cameron felt her stomach drop to her feet, could feel the gathering of magic around her, and her eyes widened. Her anger finally gave way to a healthy dose of fear, and she bolted, and didn't stop running until she made it to Gwen's house._

* * *

Cameron finished the bread and rushed back to the kitchen, casting a habitual glance over her shoulder. Still no Merlin. Granting herself a moment of relief, she got back to work on peeling potatoes, letting her mind wander once again to her now biggest problem- figuring out how to sneak into the Physician's quarters unnoticed. Because, if Merlin really did have Mr. Emrys, it was a safe bet that he had him hidden away somewhere in there.

* * *

Merlin sighed as he straightened Prince Arthur's blankets over the bed. He did his best to smile and laugh and banter, but he couldn't get his mind off of the young sorceress in the kitchens. Ever since their conversation yesterday, he'd been on edge. He couldn't tell what her game was, but she had a dangerous hold over Gwen, and he had to think of some way to warn Gwen, without letting her know exactly what that danger was.

What did she want with him? Who sent her? It was more obvious than ever that she had some ties to the Druids, only they called him Emrys, though it was possible she'd just heard the name from them, and nothing more. Normally, that wouldn't be a bad thing, but Merlin had met Druids before who weren't exactly peaceful, and it wouldn't be much of a stretch for any well-meaning magic user to go after Arthur or the king. But, to go after Emrys, directly? Typically the Druids seemed to be allies to his cause, and the only sorcerers he'd managed to make enemies of were after Arthur, not him.

If the girl were some errant Druid, then she would know who he was, wouldn't she? The other Druids seemed to know him on sight. Also, she lacked the Druid mark, but that may be hidden.

Then, there was that strange tracking spell she had on her hand. Gaius had said those were typically done with a map, but he knew it was a tracking spell, because she seemed to be following him. Wherever he went, she was there, at the end of a corridor, turning the other way the moment she saw him. It was obvious she didn't know that he, Merlin, was Emrys, but it was only a matter of time before she figured it out.

But that wasn't important. She knew that he, Merlin, was a sorcerer. And _that_ was dangerous.

She wouldn't tell the guards, there was no worry of that, not with that thing on her hand. He had spotted it moving the first time he met her, anyone else who did would know she had magic, all Merlin had to do was have someone look at her hand. What was dangerous was that she was a friend of Guinevere's, and if she told Gwen that Merlin had magic, his entire world could fall. More importantly, Gwen would be in danger.

But Gwen was already in danger, wasn't she? Whether she knew it or not, she was harboring a sorceress.

How had that happened, exactly? Did the sorceress seek Gwen out, in hopes of using her as a type of hostage in case she were threatened? If so, why?

The only thing Merlin could think, the thing he feared most, was that Morgause had somehow learned that a sorcerer named Emrys was in Camelot, protecting Prince Arthur. It wasn't too much of a stretch… all she had to do was torture the right Druid, and his secret would be revealed. And he had used his magic to protect Arthur so often, it would be a wonder if Morgana didn't notice. The only reason Arthur hadn't was due to his incredibly huge ego, after all.

Smiling at that last thought, Merlin finished with the bed and began collecting Arthur's bedclothes, which he had tossed onto the floor. Really, couldn't he at least-

"Merlin! Wake up!" Arthur shouted angrily, smacking Merlin on the back of the head suddenly.

Holding back a defensive spell that had sprung instinctively to his mind, Merlin whirled around. "What was that for?!" he demanded.

"Haven't you heard a word I've said?" Arthur asked, looking at Merlin as though he'd just grown another head. Merlin, rubbing the back of his one and only head, merely shook it. "We're going to be late, we have to be in the throne room _before_ Lord Godwyn and Elena arrive," he said, glancing once again at the mirror to see that his crown was on straight. He hated wearing the damned thing, but appearances were important, or so his father was always telling him. "Well, come on, then!" he said, shoving Merlin only slightly towards the door, and they both left, Merlin grumbling insults.

 **A/N: Hehe, yeah, I know, I'm evil. Poor Cameron, poor Merlin! If only they knew they weren't actually enemies... sigh. Ah, well...  
**

 **Also, if pizza and movies aren't something British teenagers do, please let me know! I'm trying not to turn her into an offensive stereotype, but unfortunately, all I have to draw on are episodes of Doctor Who, and Lauren Cooper bits on youtube, so I've erred on the side of making her too American. All you true Brits out there, throw me a clue, please!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Okay, readers, now the chapters seem to be coming more easily to me, I hope that means better writing! If you haven't guessed, we're in Season 3, The Changeling. I had always wondered why Merlin was so quick to attack magical creatures that looked different than he did, I think I'll blame television as the reason Cameron isn't. ;) After all, she's grown up with magical creatures singing songs and teaching her about sharing and how to count, hasn't she?**

 **I don't own Merlin.**

"He wants Arthur to do _what?!_ " Cameron demanded from her place in front of the cooking pot. She whirled to Gwen, wooden spoon in hand. Without giving Gwen a chance to answer, she began shaking her head. "No, no, no! This is all _wrong_!" she insisted, crossing her arms. "Arthur can't marry this princess, it isn't his _destiny!"_

Gwen raised her eyebrows, mystified. "I didn't realize you'd feel so strongly about it," she said, her amusement belied by the turmoil she had been feeling ever since Arthur told her the news. Something Cameron had said shook her. "Wait… what do you mean, his destiny?" she asked. It was the closest she had ever come to asking the question she really wanted to ask her friend from the future. Ever since learning where Cameron was from, she had been curious what the girl knew of the future of Camelot, but had been too afraid to ask. But this was important… it was Arthur.

Cameron gazed at her a long moment before answering. "Gwen… you remember my reaction when you told me your real name was Guinevere, right?" she asked slowly, choosing her words with care. The young woman nodded, her expression one of confusion. "Well… that was because, I didn't expect you to be a servant. You see… the stories I grew up with, of Camelot… Guinevere was the name of King Arthur's wife," she said solemnly.

Gwen eased herself into a chair, mentally working through her shock as she simultaneously tried to keep a lid on her emotions. "But… I _am_ a servant," she said, trying to snuff out the glimmer of hope that had begun to grow within her heart. If she didn't hope, she wouldn't be crushed when things didn't go her way. "Peasants can't marry nobles. Especially not royal ones," she said, trying to convince herself as well as Cameron.

Cameron shook her head again. "This place is all backwards," she muttered to herself, sadness in her eyes as she gazed at Gwen. "And the rules are rubbish. We have books full of tales of forbidden love in my time, and they all say, if you love him and he loves you, you'll find a way to make it work," she told her, turning back to the pot to stir the stew. "Hang the stupid rules. They always get changed, anyway," she added, lifting the spoon to her lips to taste. Frowning, she held it out to Gwen. "Taste this, do I need to add more salt?" she asked. She had been learning a lot about cooking by watching Audrey, the head cook, and Gwen had been teaching her how to make stew, which was what they seemed to have to eat every night, stew and bread.

Gwen tried the stew, and screwed up her face. "No, it's salty enough. Are people's tastes that different in the 21'st century?" she asked, fetching the bowls.

Cameron shrugged. "We use salt a lot more, if that's what you mean. Sugar, too… you can't imagine how much I'm craving jaffa cakes right now," she said, as she ladled stew into first one bowl, then the other. "One day, if I ever figure out how it's done, I'll make you some food from my time, you'll see what I mean," she said, smiling wistfully as she sat down across from Gwen at the table.

Gwen smiled back. "You miss your time, don't you?" she asked softly.

"Well… I'd definitely take homework over scrubbing greasy floors, that's for sure," she said, taking a bite of the still-too-bland stew that Gwen thought was too salty. "And a proper loo, and a hot bath, and the internet," she added with a sigh, her gaze distant. Then she looked at Gwen. "But here I have something that I never had at the Home," she pointed out.

Gwen raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?" she asked.

"A friend," Cameron said, smiling, causing Gwen's smile to brighten, and they both finished their dinner, lost in their own thoughts. Gwen was thinking about what life might be like, married to Arthur.

And Cameron was thinking about how she had to find Mr. Emrys, and fast. Before Merlin decided to do to her whatever he had done to her master…

* * *

The next day, Camelot was even more of a madhouse than it had been the day before. There was a feast that night, which meant Miss Audrey was screaming at just about everyone, as the kitchen had to prepare enough food for an entire army. It seemed everything Cameron did that morning was wrong, and she had actually been sent out of the kitchen to see that the store rooms were stocked up, which was just fine with Cameron. She planned to take this opportunity to see if she could sneak in to the Court Physician's quarters.

She was walking down the corridor when she saw it… a strange, pink creature, with black hair, pointed ears, and black warts all over.

It seemed to walk down the corridor without a care in the world, and no one passing it seemed to pay it any mind. In fact, one servant nodded in greeting, and the pink creature nodded back! It walked like a real person, and wore clothes like a real person. But this creature was definitely not human.

Cameron was still staring when the creature passed her, and Cameron had to turn around and start following. Her first thought was, what did this creature think it was doing? Here this creature was, obviously some kind of magical creature, walking around the place it was most likely to be killed! She had to warn it.

She wasn't aware she had placed her hand on the creature's shoulder until it was turning around, regarding her. "Um…" she started, wondering what a person was supposed to say in such situations. "You're pink," she said, mentally groaning at herself. Really? Was she really being this daft right now?

The creature flinched somewhat, and looked around. "Why, whatever do you mean, girl?" she asked, and Cameron could sense danger in her tone.

Remembering her abysmal confrontation with Merlin, Cameron quickly removed her hand, stepping back. "Oh, no, don't worry… I won't tell anyone," she said in a hushed tone. "It's just… I was worried, is all. King Uther doesn't really like magical creatures… this place isn't safe for you," she insisted, looking around herself. She sincerely hoped Merlin didn't find the creature, she didn't know what _he_ would do.

The creature's eyes were wide, and she stepped closer to Cameron. "And… how can you tell I'm a magical creature?" she asked, studying Cameron as if _she_ were the creature.

Cameron swallowed. "I… I can see you. Plain as day," she said, pressing her lips together as another servant hurried past, not giving them a second glance. "Mr. Emrys says it's because I'm a creature of magic, too," she almost whispered.

The pink creature seemed to sniff her, and looked into her eyes, her expression melting into one of shock. "You're an unborn!" she breathed, reaching out to pinch Cameron's arm.

"Ouch!" Cameron exclaimed, pulling her arm back. The creature laughed. "What was that for?"

Shaking her head, the creature smiled at her. "Well, now, dear, had to make sure you were real, didn't I?" she asked, taking Cameron's arm so the girl would walk beside her. "I want you to tell me all about yourself. Oh, just wait until Princess Elena sees you, she'll just adore you!" she gushed, pushing a rather stunned Cameron along, and away from the kitchens.

 _Well… if it gets me out of work_ , Cameron thought….

* * *

Cameron wasn't sure how it happened, but before she knew it, she was no longer assigned to the kitchens, and had been added to Princess Elena's entourage. Cameron liked Princess Elena right from the beginning, and felt a bit guilty about that, for Gwen's sake. But Elena reminded Cameron so much of herself, that before long they were both chatting away like mates. Elena hated being a princess, the fussy dresses, the pinchy shoes, trying to get her hair to do… well… _anything_. And never before had Cameron met anyone clumsier than herself, but Princess Elena was just that. A clutz. She was also a bit of a slob, which Cameron could admire, never having been much of a neat freak herself. She was crass, and gassy, and _normal_. Cameron felt more at ease with her than she'd felt with anyone since she'd gotten here. Even with Gwen, she had to be careful what she said, lest she get her friend into trouble. But Princess Elena was so much of a mess, Cameron couldn't help but relax around her.

Of course, Grunhilda, the pixie (that's what the pink creature had told her she was) had warned her right away not to make mention of magic around the Princess. Cameron wouldn't dream of it, of course… she was about to marry Prince Arthur, knowledge of the magical beings around her would put her in danger. Grunhilda had told her she'd been watching over Princess Elena all her life, and that the Princess was special. Cameron thought maybe that meant she had magic, but if the Princess wasn't to know about it, Cameron wasn't about to tell her. Grunhilda had been keeping her safe all this time, and Cameron trusted the pixie's judgement.

Princess Elena spent much of the morning out with Prince Arthur, horse riding, apparently, and Grunhilda had taken that opportunity to learn more about Cameron, and to teach Cameron about the world of magic. She had been rather surprised that Cameron was from the future, but only briefly. She explained that, to many creatures of magic, time was pretty unimportant. That was because many of them existed for the most part outside of time, and some just lived so long, time seemed to run together. While the pixie herself had never heard of anyone travelling through time, she supposed it must be possible. Magic made most things possible, after all.

Cameron had learned quite a bit from Grunhilda, about Avalon, about the Sidhe, about sorcerers and goblins and dragons. This land was protected by magic, and magical beings, like the Sidhe. Humans that were born with magic were also supposed to help protect magic. People like Uther didn't realize that magic was what protected them, what protected life itself. He was at war with the very thing keeping him alive.

Cameron had shared with Grunhilda what she knew of magic, from the perspective of her time. The picture she painted for the pixie had been bleak, and Grunhilda was visibly shaken after their conversation, especially after Cameron's warning about Merlin. She had told her that he was a powerful sorcerer, perhaps the most powerful in all of history, and that, for whatever reason, he seemed to have captured her master, Mr. Emrys, and had threatened Cameron to leave Camelot. She told Grunhilda about her plan to sneak into the Court Physician's quarters to try to find Mr. Emrys, and had told her about her mark. The mark had confused Grunhilda for some reason, and she seemed unable to understand how Mr. Emrys had placed it upon her, though Cameron couldn't see why not. Mr. Emrys was a warlock, she had told the pixie. He had used magic. Simple as that.

Grunhilda, of course, had promised her she would help Cameron find Mr. Emrys, just as soon as the wedding was over, because until that time, the Princess was in constant danger and they had to be vigilant. She did, however, let Cameron know that the Prince's manservant would most likely be in attendance at the feast that night, to keep the Prince's cup full, and all members of the court, including the Physician, would be in attendance as well. Cameron wondered why she hadn't thought of that, she knew that Gwen would be serving at the feast, as Lady Morgana's maidservant. Grunhilda told her she should sneak into the Physician's quarters while everyone was at the feast, and she would do her best to see that Gaius, the court physician, was kept busy.

That suited Cameron just fine, she hadn't wanted to attend the feast anyway, lest she catch the attention of a certain powerful sorcerer. When it was time for the feast that evening, she stealthily made her way up the stairs to Gaius's quarters, gently pushing open the door.

It was empty. Herbs hung from various places along the wall, the tables were littered with books and bottles of various concoctions, with more shelves of books along the walls. Stepping inside, Cameron tried to use her senses for a magical presence, now that Merlin was in the dining hall.

The most magic she could sense in here was coming from the room in back. Cameron made her way to it, making certain not to knock over one of the bottles on the overcrowded tables as she passed by. The room looked to be a bedroom of sorts, and she could tell right away that it was Merlin's. The source of magic was coming from the bed, it was practically soaked with it, and Cameron groaned. She had to find out how to separate Merlin's residual magic from other sources, or she'd never find Mr. Emrys.

Unless…

Cameron bit her lip, and lowered herself to the floor. She could feel it even more now, the warm thrum of magic. But her eyes showed her nothing, there was nothing under the bed. Cameron closed her eyes. There was nothing under the bed, but there _was._ Reaching out with her hand, she felt the floor until her fingertips brushed against a spot where the boards were coming up slightly. Of _course._ Digging her fingernails under, she pried up the loose board, which came up easily, to reveal a hidden compartment beneath the floor.

Cameron opened her eyes to look. There was a long staff, it's blue crystal glowing iridescently. There was a thick book, which by the touch of it, Cameron knew must contain magical spells or something, because magic almost poured from it. An assortment of odds and ends, all containing one level of magic or another, were also in the hole.

Was Mr. Emrys trapped somehow in one of these items?

Cameron turned her left hand over, to look at the bird, but it was still, unmoving, though still detailed. She sighed. No… these items were magic, but they weren't Mr. Emrys.

But… the bird had moved last time she was here, when she confronted Merlin. Mr. Emrys _had_ been here then. Perhaps Merlin had moved him, once he knew Cameron was looking for him? Or, perhaps…

If Mr. Emrys _could_ be trapped within a crystal or something, then Merlin could be keeping him on his person somewhere. After all… every time she followed her mark, Merlin always seemed to be around, following her. Maybe… maybe the mark was leading her to Merlin? Like, he kept Mr. Emrys in his pocket, or something?

' _What hope do I have, then?'_ Cameron wondered. She would have to knock Merlin out in order to search him. She didn't think she'd be able to sneak in here while he was asleep, he was simply too powerful. Speaking of, she had better get out of here while she still could, hadn't she?

Glancing once more at the impressive looking staff and magic book in the hole beneath the bed, she sighed and lowered the floor boards back over them. They were too big for her to smuggle out of the room, and besides, best to not let Merlin know she'd been in here snooping, or he'd find an even better hiding place for Mr. Emrys. Quickly, she scampered back out of the room, unaware that in her haste, a few pieces of loose parchment had fluttered to the floor.

* * *

The winds stilled as the pixie stood beside the lake, taking in the sight of the tiny, graceful Sidhe dancing above the surface of the water. She always loved watching them dance, her beautiful masters, and was almost distracted from the gravity of her news. That was, until His Majesty emerged, demanding to know why he had been summoned.

Grunhilda bowed. "The fathers are committed to the match, Your Esteemed Majesty," she began, earning a pleased look from the King.

"We have waited many years for this moment," he said, his smile revealing sharp teeth.

"But… it seems Camelot may be more dangerous than we thought," Grunhilda continued, shifting uncomfortably at the King's change in expression. "You see, there is a sorcerer there, posing as a servant, he may cause a problem," she said, fearing the King's reaction.

"A sorcerer? In Camelot?" the King replied. "Impossible!" he spat, frowning. "Camelot has outlawed all magic."

"Nevertheless, he is there, Your Esteemed Majesty. And he is in a position close to the Prince, he is Prince Arthur's manservant, Merlin," she said nervously.

The King was silent for a long moment before speaking. "Well… then it seems we have some competition for the throne of Camelot," he said slowly. He gazed at Grunhilda. "Do you think he can be persuaded to join our cause?" he asked, knowing the pixie would have had an opportunity to watch the sorcerer.

Grunhilda shifted. "According to my source, he is no friend of magic. Already, he has captured another sorcerer. Which brings me to another discovery I have made, Esteemed Majesty," she said, smiling this time. "I have found an Unborn, in human flesh!"

"An Unborn?!" the King exclaimed, and Grunhilda could see the attention of the other Sidhe had been captured as well, as they fluttered closer. "In this realm?"

"It is quite a tale she tells," Grunhilda said. "Tales of the future. Of the end of magic, Esteemed Majesty," she said, gazing at her King gravely. "She is young, still, easily manipulated. I have brought her into the service of Princess Elena, I had thought at first to give her to Camelot's new queen as a wedding present. Unless you would prefer to have her for yourself, Esteemed Majesty," she suggested, bowing.

The King frowned to himself. "Bring the Unborn to me, tomorrow night. I will decide what will be done with her. In the meantime, keep watch over the Princess. We will watch this sorcerer, find out what his intentions are. If he chooses to stand in our way, it will be the last thing he ever does," he said, and suddenly, he and the other Sidhe disappeared in a flash of light.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short, guys. I'll try to get more out on Sunday!**

 **I don't own Merlin.**

"You're sure?" Cameron asked, her hand on her friend's shoulder as she gazed into Gwen's eyes, their bowls of porridge nearly empty. "I could say no," she offered.

The expression on Gwen's face was one of alarm. "No, you will not!" she scolded the younger girl, causing Cameron to blush. "You're a servant now, Cameron. Opportunities like this don't happen every day for us, and a position like this is not something to be taken lightly. Besides, I'm happy for you!" she insisted, warmth in her eyes and smile, though Cameron could still see the sadness behind it.

Cameron bit her lip. "But… you and Arthur…" she started to protest, stopped by Gwen's sharp look.

" _If_ it were meant to be between Arthur and I," she said softly, choosing her words carefully, "then it would be so, regardless of the circumstances." At Cameron's look, she held up a hand. "Cameron, I'm a peasant. I have been all my life. I don't waste my time with fantasies of what can never be. And you shouldn't, either," she said simply, standing to take their bowls.

Cameron looked down at her hands in her lap, specifically her left hand. The bird was still there, detailed, though unmoving. Was that what Cameron was doing? Wasting her time with fantasies?

The longer she stayed in this place, the more she felt she was forgetting her former life. But it was _real,_ wasn't it? She _was_ from the future. She _was_ the apprentice of a sorcerer, on a special mission to save the world. To fulfill a prophecy. Because Prince Arthur _did_ have a destiny.

And so did Guinevere.

She stood, and leveled a gaze at Gwen. "Just because something hasn't been done yet, doesn't mean it can't never be," she told her friend's back. "If it weren't for fantasy, we wouldn't have light bulbs, or airplanes, or Doctor Who!" she said, and Gwen turned to look at her, eyebrow raised in bemusement. To her, Cameron had just started speaking gibberish again. "I'm just saying, all the good things in life, they start out as fantasies, don't they? Maybe a bit of fantasy is just what Camelot needs," she said, her tone soft as she gently squeezed Gwen's arm, giving her a crooked smile.

Gwen smiled back, shaking her head. "Well… _maybe_ ," she relented, and Cameron's smile grew. "Now, off to work! You're a handmaiden to a princess now, she'll notice if you're late, trust me," she said knowingly, and Cameron smirked as she rushed out of the house, followed closely by Gwen.

* * *

Cameron's duties started with fetching a bowl of peaches from the kitchens, which the Princess preferred for her breakfast, and then preparing her bath. Grunhilda was there with her, of course, waking the Princess, and Cameron enjoyed watching them together. After Cameron had gotten over how different they were, the beautiful, blonde princess and the pink, wart-covered pixie, they seemed more like a mother and daughter, the way Grunhilda doted over Elena. Cameron couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, which she quickly smothered. Sure, Cameron was a mess sometimes (well, _most_ times), but Princess Elena was just lost without someone holding her hand. She would never have survived without someone like Grunhilda watching over her, and Cameron was glad she had been in the Princess's life.

While Elena was in the bath, Cameron made the bed, and Grunhilda picked out the Princess's clothes for that day. "Tell me I don't have to wear those blasted shoes again!" Elena called from within the large metal tub, and Cameron snickered. "What?" Elena asked at Cameron's slip.

Cameron grinned and shrugged. "It's the age old question, isn't it? Comfort or beauty? I think women will be shoving their feet into uncomfortable shoes for centuries to come," she said as she fetched a drying cloth for the Princess.

Elena snorted at that. "I'll take comfort over beauty any day," she said, sloshing a bit of water out of the tub as she fumbled her way out of it, wrapping the drying cloth around her.

"But Prince Arthur might not," Grunhilda scolded gently, laying the aforementioned shoes on the floor at the foot of the dress she had picked out and laid upon the newly made bed. "You're a princess preparing to be married to a prince. It's time to look your best. Comfort can come later," she encouraged, and Elena sighed, shrugging in acquiescence. Cameron busied herself with emptying the bath water as Elena got dressed and Grunhilda did her hair. When the work was finished, Elena was stumbling her way down the corridor to meet with her father, and Grunhilda gave Cameron a smile. "Take a break and come with me, child. We have much to discuss, and I could use some fresh air," she said. Cameron grinned and nodded as she followed the pixie.

* * *

Merlin gazed at the tiny book in his right hand, just some scraps of parchment sewn together, really, and compared it to the leaves he was holding up with his left. Deciding they were a match, he plucked the herb from its home at the base of the tree and walked on, stuffing it into his almost full bag. He was looking for another just like it, when he heard voices from over by the nearby pond. One of them he recognized as the young sorceress's.

His blood ran cold, and he stealthily made his way through the brush, until he could see her sitting on a fallen log, next to an older woman, who he recognized as Princess Elena's nurse. "Didn't your master tell you any of this, dearie?" the old woman was asking the girl, her face one of bewildered concern.

The girl shook her head, frowning. "He might not have known, though. Magic of any kind is rare where I'm from. But I don't understand, what does it mean? What's an unborn?"

The old woman gazed off for a moment, then… did _something,_ Merlin couldn't figure out what, it was too fast for him to see. "Well, you told me you came through the lake of Avalon, didn't you, dear?" the old woman replied.

"Yeah," the girl confirmed. "But, that's where all the magic was, I don't-"

"You came through Avalon, not just the lake," the old woman said, then did that… _thing…_ again, Merlin tried to catch it, but his eyes were too slow. Could he slow down time to see it more clearly? The woman seemed to swallow, then speak again. "Avalon is the gateway to another realm, dear. The faerie realm. The Sidhe protect the gateway, and that gateway is how you got through, to here. Your kind… the unborn… they exist on the other side," she explained, and did it again.

Merlin used his magic this time, to see. She was sticking out her tongue… her long, purple tongue… and catching insects with it, eating them. His eyes widened with horror, and he felt like he was going to be sick.

"But, I'm human, aren't I? I mean, I know I'm not exactly from _here_ , but I know I'm normal… aren't I?" the girl asked, uncertain, and the old woman looked at her, pitying.

"You're a creature of magic. Just like us pixies. Just like the Sidhe. Someone brought you to this realm, dearie, likely this master of yours you speak so highly of. And as much as you might think you do, you don't belong here. You won't abide here long, one day you'll feel yourself starting to fade, and then you'll be nothing, if you don't go back," she told the girl, placing a hand on her arm. "Cameron, you're a smart girl. And you have some time. But… if the Sidhe tell you to go back to Avalon, you must promise me you'll obey them. It's for your own good, after all, isn't it?" she said more than asked.

Cameron frowned. "But… Emrys…" she trailed off, obviously conflicted.

The old woman sighed, shaking her head. "You've tried to find him, child, and you haven't been able to. Perhaps it's time to give it up? Go back home?" she suggested.

Cameron pursed her lips, then looked back at the old woman. "For now, I have to help you protect the Princess. The Sidhe don't know Merlin the way I do. He isn't just a sorcerer, he's _the_ sorcerer. In all of history, there has never been anyone as powerful as him. You should see the amount of magic coming from him, and that's when he isn't summoning any! It's like he _is_ magic. He's the biggest magical threat you could ever face, and if he finds out-"

The old woman put up her hand, looking around. Cameron took the hint, and opened her left hand, palm up.

Merlin was already gone.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Okay, I know this is slow going, sorry for that, guys! Future episodes shouldn't take this long, I think it's just because I'm still trying to get everything set up.**

 **I don't own Merlin.**

"This is grave news, indeed," Gaius said, gazing at the top of Merlin's head. The boy was sitting with his head on the table, weary. Gaius couldn't imagine how much pressure his ward was under. And to have his secret not only known, but told to others… "I'm sorry, Merlin, but the involvement of the Sidhe… the kingdom may be in great peril," he said, hating the words even as he said them.

Merlin's face came up, eyes red, as though he had been crying. "What do you mean, peril?" he asked warily. He was mentally and emotionally drained, but he had responsibilities, and he wouldn't shirk them, no matter how he felt.

Gaius sighed, frowning. "Pixies don't tend to involve themselves in the affairs of humans," he said slowly, as he stood. "For this one to be involved with the Princess…"

"Means the Princess isn't human," Merlin finished for him, rubbing his eyes. "Cameron mentioned protecting the Princess from me. I couldn't figure out why she would need to, but…"

"Of course," Gaius said, turning suddenly. "The Princess, she's clumsy, unkempt… and guarded by a pixie," he said, looking at Merlin intently. "She's a changeling."

Merlin blinked. "A what?" he asked, trying to keep up.

Gaius was walking towards one of his bookshelves. "A changeling is a child that is inhabited by a fairy, usually at birth. Oftentimes the person possessed doesn't even know they are, but the presence of the fairy within them causes severe lack of balance and inhibition. It would be rather like living your whole life intoxicated," he said, frowning thoughtfully.

"That sounds like Princess Elena," Merlin said, nodding. "Can the fairy be taken out of her?" he asked.

Gaius pulled two thick tomes from the bookshelf, and brought them to the table where Merlin was still sitting. "I'm afraid there is only one way to find out," he said, handing one of them to Merlin, who audibly groaned. "These contain much useful information about the Sidhe, hopefully we should be able to find a spell for extracting one from a living person," he said as he opened his book.

"Great," Merlin sighed as he got to work.

* * *

The day had seemed to fly by for Cameron. The Princess had spent much of the day with her father and with Prince Arthur, and while Cameron and Grunhilda attended her at mealtimes, for the most part their duties were light, and they spent much of the time talking. Cameron loved hearing stories of Avalon, and about pixies, and the Sidhe. The way Grunhilda described the beauty of it all, Cameron's initial nervousness about meeting the Sidhe king that night had given way to a bit of excitement. What would it be like, living in Avalon? Would she meet other Unborn?

She had asked Grunhilda about the Unborn, about what it meant, and was rather surprised that, though the pixie was more than happy to educate her all about the Sidhe, on the subject of the Unborn she was a bit vague. Cameron didn't think she was being purposely evasive, but rather that she just didn't seem to know a lot about it. She didn't complain, of course. What she _had_ learned about this thing she was supposed to be, was disturbing enough.

According to Grunhilda, the Unborn were souls that never started out in life, for one reason or another. The way the pixie described it, Cameron _would_ have been born, but then something had happened to cause her parents not to have her after all. Grunhilda said that destiny played a larger role in life than people knew, and that when destiny was meddled around with, sometimes it caused people who were _supposed_ to be born, _not_ to be born, and that's what had happened to her. Cameron wasn't sure how to feel about that. It was sort of like finding out she was an orphan all over again, only, not only did she not have parents _anymore_ , it turned out that she _never_ had parents. She wasn't just abandoned… she had never even been thought of in the first place.

Except, someone _had_ thought of her. Grunhilda said, to give an Unborn human flesh would have taken a tremendous amount of magic, that only a powerful sorcerer could have done so. If what Cameron had said about magic in the 21st century was true, it only left Mr. Emrys. Grunhilda said she was almost certain of it, that for some reason, Mr. Emrys had pulled her Unborn soul from beyond Avalon and manifested it into human form.

Which made absolutely no sense to Cameron. If Mr. Emrys, who she knew to be a good man, had created her, why have her grow up all alone in the Home? Why didn't he just raise her?

Perhaps, it was because he was poor, though, Cameron didn't think that was it. She had spent enough time with Mr. Emrys to know that his apparent homelessness was more a personal preference than an issue of need. He always had food with him, though it was sometimes meager, and during one of their herbalism lessons, he had told her he had a garden in which he grew many of his herbs. He also frequently bought her sweets, which Cameron thought was just as much because he loved them, as it was that he liked to encourage her rebellion against the strict dietary protocols of the Home.

And that was another thing. Mr. Emrys severely disliked the Home, and Cameron knew he had good reason to. Not only was it a soul-crushing, high-security facility that restricted creativity of any kind and basically reduced the children to numbers; it was also one of Price's pet projects, and Mr. Emrys was constantly lecturing her to use the utmost care when she snuck in and out of the place after hours. There was no way that he would ever intentionally place her in the Home. He just wouldn't.

So, was there another powerful sorcerer in the future, one Mr. Emrys hadn't told her about? One thing was certain… even if Mr. Emrys hadn't created her, he probably knew what she was, and he probably knew who did it.

If only she could ask him.

That evening, she had gone home to find Gwen already there, crying. The young woman had stopped immediately upon seeing Cameron, but the girl merely closed the door and went to sit beside her, draping her arm over Gwen's shoulders. Gwen's lips tightened, and she started sobbing again. Cameron let her cry, lightly stroking her back, the way Mr. Emrys had done once for her. She didn't have to ask what was wrong… for all of her talk about not indulging in fantasies, Gwen truly loved Arthur, and he was about to commit his entire life to someone else. Someone who he didn't even love, and who didn't even love him! ' _Stupid rules',_ Cameron thought. After a long moment, Gwen stopped, drying her eyes, and busied herself around the hearth, not meeting Cameron's eyes. Cameron understood, and began her own nightly chores, and the two shared dinner in companionable silence. Cameron washed the bowls and pot so that Gwen could get to bed a bit early. By the time she was done, Gwen was fast asleep, emotionally exhausted, and Cameron snuffed out the candles before putting on her cloak, and sneaking out the door.

Cameron felt helpless. Her friend was in pain, because she wasn't allowed to be with the man she loved, and he was being forced to marry someone else. Why couldn't Uther just leave them all alone? Of course, Cameron knew this rule wasn't really Uther's, but he was the one forcing his son to marry, wasn't he? She had never wished someone would die before, but here she was, wishing it of King Uther. The man was a monster, and the world would be better off without him.

Of course, she was helping as much as she could. She had found magical creatures, who wanted to make a change, and she was doing her best to help them. At least something good would come of Prince Arthur's marriage to someone other than Gwen… it would put a creature of magic on the throne, and maybe Princess Elena could reverse some of the damage King Uther had done. Perhaps in this way, Arthur would be more willing to fulfill his destiny and bring magic back to the world, if his own wife were a creature of magic.

Cameron gazed down at her hand as she passed a torch along the wall. The bird was pointing down the way, and she followed it out of habit, knowing it would lead her nowhere, but following all the same. When it started to circle, she stopped, and sat down on the ground by the wall, closing her eyes. "Mr. Emrys," she whispered, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "You always told me to follow my heart, and I'm trying, but I just don't know what to do. I need your help," she sobbed quietly, her throat tight. "You told me to seek you in Camelot, and I did, but I can't find you. And now the Sidhe might send me back to Avalon, and I don't know if I can stay, even if I want to. Everything's all backwards here, I'm lost, and everyone else has their idea of what I should do, but the only one I _want_ to follow is you. Mr. Emrys, _where are you?!"_ she choked, her voice raising just a bit more than she intended, and she heard footsteps coming toward her. Pulling her cloak tightly around her, she stepped into the shadows, biting her lip, but it wasn't a guard coming, it was Grunhilda.

"Oh, there you are, child!" the pixie whispered, glancing around furtively to make sure she didn't attract the attention of the guards. "Come along, then, I'll show you how to sneak past the guards at the main gates," she said, grinning mischievously, and Cameron returned her grin, waiting until the pixie turned around before she quickly wiped her eyes.

* * *

It had been a hard day for Merlin. Between research and chores for Arthur, he had very gratefully slipped into sleep the moment his head had touched the pillow. He hadn't even been aware of Gaius coming into his room to snuff out his candle. He was having the strangest dream… he was in a world of great metal dragons that flew past him, roaring loudly, where great castles shot into the sky like spears bursting from the ground, and light seemed to come from everywhere. But, amidst all the noise and wonder, he felt alone, cold, as though he had been drained of life, and were slowly dying. He cried out, but couldn't hear his own voice over the noise.

Then, suddenly, he heard a girl's voice, crying out: "Mr. Emrys, _where are you?!"_

Merlin awoke with a start, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. In the stillness of the night around him, he thought he could hear people whispering below his window. Looking down, he saw two figures making their way towards the main gates. One of them was unmistakably Grunhilda.

Which meant the other was Cameron.

Merlin quickly pulled on his boots and jacket, and quietly snuck past Gaius and out of the physician's chambers, intent on finding out what they were planning.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I don't own Merlin.**

Cameron always felt at home near the lake of Avalon.

It hadn't been that long ago, when Cameron had felt she would never be at home, not anywhere, despite the rather ironic name of the facility that took charge over her. The Home changed the children's room assignments, changed the facility's staff, even changed locations, so frequently it was as though they were trying to prevent the children from ever thinking anything was permanent. And so, Cameron was accustomed to having to move, to leaving people and things behind, to the point where habit demanded she do so without question. After all, change was inevitable, what was the point in fighting it?

Because, she had never been somewhere she wanted to be. She had never been at home.

But this, the lake of Avalon, it called to something within her. It always had, ever since the moment she first laid eyes on it. It was much larger here, and while it was not as concentrated as it had been in the future, it seemed to contain more magic. But the magic was more dispersed here, it seemed to be thrown all over the lake, instead of intentionally placed, like it had been in her time. Here, magic grew, naturally.

There was more to it, though, than just the magic. There was magic in Camelot, and she felt more alone there than she ever had in the Home. No, there was something special about the lake of Avalon, something just for her, and Cameron wondered if that meant that Avalon was truly her home… or if she had just grown attached to the lake itself?

So lost in her thoughts she was, that she didn't notice Grunhilda whispering a spell, until she felt the magic bloom outward from the pixie towards the lake… and then felt a responding explosion of it coming from… from…

From something within, behind, beyond… it didn't seem to occupy any space, it was bigger than the lake, though did not exist anywhere outside of it…

Avalon.

Cameron could feel her knees buckle beneath her, and she knelt to the ground, feeling weak, feeling something pull at her guts. Frightened, she fought against it, but was distracted by the tiny blue creatures that emerged from the… it wasn't light, but it was bright, it was as though she glimpsed the inside of a very large room through a crack in the door, and was hit by the enormity of it. And the creatures, oh, _how beautiful_ , tiny, fragile looking fairies with wings, dancing above the surface of the lake, creating tiny ripples when they touched it. And one of the fairies, larger than the others, approached them, and Cameron could feel the weight of his authority as though it were a palpable thing, and bowed her head, trembling inside. This was the King of the Sidhe, there was no question of it.

What was wrong with her?

The king hovered close enough to Cameron that she could feel the air coming from his wings. He was tiny, so small she could probably crush him with one hand, but she couldn't imagine even the thought of it, so big was he in her mind. She felt as though _she_ were the small one, like she were a bug under his foot, and at any moment, on a whim, he could merely crush her and be done with it.

Cameron had been in the same room as King Uther, a tyrant who could have her killed with a gesture. She had even been in the same room as Derek Price, the man who was trying to destroy the world, and succeeding. But never before had she felt such fear, such overwhelming knowledge that this could very well be her last moment on earth.

And from a tiny blue fairy.

"So… it _is_ an Unborn," the king said, and though Cameron tried, she couldn't make herself lift her head. "Tell me, unborn, how did you manage to leave the Beyond?" he asked, and Cameron got the sense that he really meant 'escape', not 'leave'.

Cameron struggled to find her voice, feeling small, insignificant, like she shouldn't be here, like it was wrong of her to be alive. This wasn't like her… what was happening to her? In her silence, Grunhilda spoke. "She spoke of a master, Esteemed Majesty… surely he is the one-"

"Silence!" the king commanded, his gaze dangerous, and Grunhilda winced as if she had been struck. He turned to look at Cameron. " _You_ , speak! Why are you here?" the king commanded.

Cameron's left palm itched, and she tightened her hand into a fist, feeling Mr. Emrys's magic within her hand. He had given her that mark, so that she would always be able to find him. So that she would always have a part of him with her. Suddenly the tight feeling left her stomach, and she lifted her head, her green eyes meeting his. "My master sent me," she said, feeling oddly still, confident. "I'm here on an important mission. Esteemed Majesty," she added, remembering Grunhilda's lecture on how to address him. "I have come from the 21st century, to save magic."

The king looked at her silently for a long moment, then started to laugh. "Save magic?" he asked incredulously. "Magic is everywhere, child, magic is life. Magic is the world. It's in the earth, the water, the air. Magic is in no need of saving," he said, shaking his head.

"Except the earth is poisoned, Esteemed Majesty," Cameron retorted, feeling more of her strength come back. "Humans have been burying their toxic chemicals into it. Dumping it into the water. Polluting the air with toxic gasses. Entire rainforests have been cut down, entire species of plants and animals have been driven into extinction. Nature doesn't exist anymore, not like it does now," she said, standing and gesturing at the lake with her hand. "This lake, it's a collection of magic, yeah? In my time, it's about the size of a small pond. Nothing near as bright as it is now. There are no magical creatures in my time, Esteemed Majesty. There are no pixies," she said, glancing at Grunhilda. She turned her eyes back to the king. "There are no Sidhe." The king had backed away a few feet, gazing at her with his eyes wide. "The world is dying in my time, Esteemed Majesty. I was sent back to stop it."

The king was silent for a moment, then spoke. "So they sent an unborn," he said, his gaze thoughtful. "Are you certain there are no Sidhe in your time, child?" he asked, but then raised a hand. "It does not matter. These humans are nothing but trouble, we only allow them to continue to exist because magic needs _them_ , too," he growled. "Our plan shall continue uninterrupted, but you, child, will serve us on this side of the veil. Protect the princess, and the Sidhe within her. Princess Elena _must_ marry Prince Arthur, the Sidhe _must_ be at the heart of Camelot, if magic is to be protected. King Uther _will be stopped_ ," he said, tightening his hands into fists. "Too long have we allowed them to rule this world. Your words are proof that humans can no longer be trusted to do so. Now their tyranny will come to an end," he said, and Grunhilda bowed, followed quickly by Cameron.

* * *

Merlin remained hidden in the forest after the Sidhe had disappeared, watching as the two cloaked figures began walking towards Camelot. Once they were out of sight and earshot, he felt it was safe enough to make his own way back. He was almost clear of the forest when he heard a voice behind one of the trees. "I thought it was you," the voice said, coldly.

Merlin turned to see Cameron standing there, glaring at him. He glanced around, he didn't see the old woman anywhere. "I told Grunhilda I'd catch up," the girl said, in answer to his unspoken question.

Merlin gazed at her. "Is it true, what you said? About being from the future?" he asked, his voice clipped. The sadness in Cameron's eyes could not be faked. She nodded. "And what you said about magic dying?"

"Yes," Cameron said softly, watching him intently. "Merlin… we should be on the same side. You're a creature of magic, just like us. Surely you can't believe Uther is right," she said, her tone almost pleading.

Merlin was silent for a long moment before responding. "If Princess Elena marries Prince Arthur, what do you think will happen then? To Uther? To _Arthur_?" he asked her intently. "What do you think will happen to Camelot, with the Sidhe in control over it? What will happen to its people?"

Cameron's jaw tightened. "Uther has to be stopped. I've seen what the death of magic is like, if we can stop it-"

"But at what cost?" Merlin interrupted angrily. "You heard the Sidhe king, the Sidhe hate humans. What about the people of Camelot, Cameron? What about Gwen? What happens to them when the Sidhe take over?" He shook his head, lowering his voice. "Cameron, I heard you, at the pond with Grunhilda. I know, in your heart, you're one of us. Guinevere is your friend. Is this why your master sent you here? To hurt people like Gwen, who are just trying to make a life for themselves?" he implored.

Cameron narrowed her eyes. "How _dare_ you speak of my master," she hissed, and stepped forward. "You talk a good game, Merlin, but the truth is, you don't care about those people any more than the Sidhe do, any more than Uther does," she said bitingly. "Camelot is nothing more than a tiny village compared to the number of people who will be here in my time. And even that is nothing compared to the number of people covering the entire world. What should concern me more? Camelot has, what, a few hundred people in it? There are over _seven billion_ people in the world in my time, and once the magical barrier protecting them is gone, they are all going to burn. So, maybe you should think about that before trying to tell me what to do?" she said, taking a step forward. "I don't care if you are the most powerful sorcerer who ever lived. I will protect those people. I will protect magic. Even if I have to protect it from you," she spat, and pushed past him with her shoulder as she stormed off.

Merlin took a deep breath. " _That went well_ ," he said to the empty forest, then made his own way back.

 **A/N: Hehe, well, you can't say she didn't try to make nice. I do look forward to their little talks… ;)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Okay, guys, it isn't my weekend yet, but here's a teaser for you… short, but I don't have time to continue until this weekend. Enjoy!**

 **I don't own Merlin.**

The next morning, Prince Arthur officially proposed to Princess Elena.

Cameron stood in the room, behind Grunhilda, watching. Her eyes met Gwen's from across the room, and the other servant gave her a small smile, as if to tell Cameron that, no matter what, everything would be alright. Cameron didn't buy it for a second, but smiled back anyway.

This was horrible. Cameron knew the necessity of what had to be done, knew that Princess Elena must marry Prince Arthur, knew that Uther had to be overthrown. But, she also knew how it was _supposed_ to go. That was supposed to be Guinevere up there, Camelot was supposed to be a place of freedom, Arthur was supposed to be a fair king, and the world wasn't supposed to be dying. Once again, she wished Mr. Emrys were here, to show her the path she should take.

Her eyes involuntarily slid to Merlin, who was watching Arthur, unease in his expression. What was his stake in all of this? Cameron could easily believe he wished to protect Prince Arthur, but to what purpose? So that Arthur could follow in his father's footsteps, continue his persecution of magic, forcing creatures of magic into hiding for so long they would be unable to stand against humanity when they needed to? Was Merlin simply ignorant of what he was doing, like Uther, or did he intend to doom the world, like Price?

Why had he captured Mr. Emrys?

As though he could read her thoughts, Merlin's steel blue eyes met hers, their depths unreadable. What Cameron saw in that man's eyes was power and care. He seemed like a surgeon to her, able to heal or kill with just the tiniest movement, accustomed to having lives in his hands, to deciding who lives and who dies. What darkness must lie within the soul of someone with that kind of power? What did he plan to do with the lives he held in his hands?

* * *

Merlin had a bad feeling about all of this. This was wrong, it was all wrong, yet he felt helpless to stop it. There was Arthur, wearing his crown and princely clothes. He was speaking, power in his voice, yet, to Merlin, to the one person who knew him better than anyone, he seemed to feel just as helpless as Merlin did. This was a travesty, and not just because Arthur loved Gwen, and Gwen loved Arthur. Princess Elena, the poor girl trying not to trip all over herself, was in fact inhabited by one of the very magical creatures Uther had spent his life eradicating. When it finally emerged, what terror would rain down upon them? She would use Arthur, slowly corrupting the world he knew, manipulating him against the king, perhaps even urging him to kill his own father. And in the end, what would be left of Arthur? He would be a mere pawn in the game of the Sidhe, until he tried to fight back…

And even if he survived, he would be broken. And he would never trust magic, never again.

' _As if Morgana wasn't enough…'_ Merlin thought, his eyes darting to the king's ward, before quickly looking away. No use gaining more attention from her, when he had his hands full already with fairies infiltrating the kingdom.

And then there was Cameron. She had come here specifically to look for him, but Merlin couldn't figure out why. At first, he had thought she worked for Morgana, but she never spoke to the Lady, and once she joined forces with the Sidhe, Merlin knew he had been wrong, for Morgana would never share power like that. And then there was what he saw and heard last night…

What sort of magic could send a person through time? Was the world truly dying? And, if this sorceress was really here to save the world, then why was she intent on destroying Camelot?

And then, there was the incongruity of what she knew. She seemed to know everything about Merlin, everything he hid from the world, and was more than willing to bring it out in the open. Yet, she didn't know the one thing that other magic users seemed to know – that _he_ was Emrys. She was insistent on finding Emrys, and was furious with Merlin for not handing him over. But why? Was he supposed to do something as Emrys, something terrible, to make her want to kill him before he did so? Did her master have some sort of grudge against Emrys, personally? If she were sent back through time to save magic, then why was she hunting down a sorcerer?

Perhaps she wasn't trying to find Emrys to harm him, but to enlist his aid to her cause? But, if so, why all of the hatred toward Merlin? There was no question that she blamed Merlin for something, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he looked over at the young servant. She was staring at him, her green eyes searching his. There was so much anger there, and yet, Merlin could see uncertainty as well, as if she were trying to convince herself she was on the right path, but did not truly believe it. She didn't want this wedding to take place any more than he did. Merlin pitied her, wished he could just convince her to help him instead of working against him. At the same time, he knew that if the Sidhe had a weak point, it would be the young sorceress, and he should do everything in his power to exploit it, for Arthur's sake. The Sidhe were using her, and if he could just get past her anger at him, maybe he could make her see that, before it was too late.

The sound of clapping tore their eyes to the front of the room, and the two of them made a show of joining in the applause, though neither really felt like applauding.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I don't own Merlin.**

It all happened so fast.

It was the day of the wedding, Cameron was still reeling from the emotional roller coaster of comforting Gwen at home, then going to Princess Elena's rooms, where Grunhilda was beside herself with excitement and Cameron had to help convince Elena that trampling all over Guinevere's dreams was a good thing. It was awkward, it was wrong, but it was necessary, Cameron could see that as well. She just wished it didn't have to come to this. She was standing behind the princess, brushing tangles out of her hair so that she could weave strings of beads into it. Cameron enjoyed brushing the princess's hair. She always wore her own hair short, so brushing someone else's long hair was a novelty, and sort of fun. Also, Elena's hair was always in tangles due to the magic seeping out of her from the Sidhe within, some type of conflict causing disarray with the energies around her. Cameron could see these energies playing against each other, but the moment Cameron started brushing the princess's hair, they stopped, and the blonde strands would settle down, laying flat in Cameron's hand. It amused Cameron to run her fingers through it, feeling the magic tickle up her arms, and before long, the princess's hair was neatly plaited and interwoven with the beads, much to Elena's wondrous approval. Apparently, her hair had always been a source of frustration for the princess, a fact which didn't surprise Cameron in the least.

Merlin insisted the Sidhe inside of Elena was hurting her somehow, apparently he had been spying on the princess last night and said Grunhilda had sprinkled pixie dust over her to get her to stop fighting it. The idea disquieted Cameron, but she wasn't daft enough to take his word for it. Grunhilda would never let anything harm the princess, she doted on her. Cameron could see that, why couldn't Merlin? Perhaps he just saw her as a monster, because she was different? Because she wasn't human? What did Merlin think of Cameron, then? Because, apparently, neither was she.

Cameron saw some of the princess's hair start to frizz back up, and she gently smoothed it down, letting its excess magic seep into her hand as she fished in the pockets of her apron for a beaded clip. Grunhilda had received a visitor about an hour ago, though Cameron didn't see who, and had handed the clips to the girl so she could finish Elena's hair. Cameron hoped Grunhilda would be as pleased as the princess was. She hummed softly to herself as she worked.

"What is that song?" Princess Elena asked as Cameron worked the beaded clips into her hair. "You're always humming it, but I've never heard it before, it sounds intriguing," she said.

Distractedly, Cameron answered, " 'All You Need Is Love', by the Beatles," before thinking. Suddenly, she turned pale, realizing her mistake, but she couldn't take the words back.

Princess Elena sighed. "I've never heard anything more true," she said sadly. "I'm a princess, I have beautiful clothes, servants to wait on me hand and foot, but the one thing I want, the one thing I can never have, is love."

Cameron swallowed hard, and busied her hands with Elena's hair, lest it come out of its clips. "Maybe they were wrong? Maybe there are more important things than love," she said, biting her lip, hating herself for her own hypocrisy. Hadn't she told Gwen the exact opposite not long ago?

"I suppose," the princess said, sighing again. "But it's a nice thought, isn't it? Spending your life with someone else, not because you have to, but because you want nothing more than to be with that one person, no matter what?"

Cameron shifted uncomfortably. She had never been in love, she'd read about it, but she'd never actually dated anyone, never kissed a boy, never felt herself swept up over some bloke… but…

"There's always a choice," she almost whispered, as she fastened in another clip. Her eyes met Princess Elena's in the mirror, and she swallowed. "Everyone has a choice, what they do. Not always good choices. But it's still up to you, isn't it? You're still the one who has to decide," she said, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. Elena gazed at her thoughtfully, and was about to speak, when two men burst into the room.

It was Merlin and Gaius, the court physician. Merlin was carrying some kind of long staff with a blue crystal on top of it, one that seemed rather familiar to Cameron. Grunhilda was nowhere to be seen.

Cameron spun around, keeping the seated princess safely behind her, just as Merlin lifted his hand towards her. She could feel the magic build up around him, knew what was coming a split second before it came. " _Swefe,"_ he said, his eyes flashing gold just as Cameron had seen happen every time Mr. Emrys cast a spell.

She felt the wave of magic come to her, felt it tickle through her body… then pass right to Princess Elena, her body slumping over and her head hitting the top of her vanity.

"What did you do to her?!" Cameron screamed as she turned to check Elena's pulse. Her back was moving up and down with breath, and Cameron relaxed slightly, turning back to Merlin, who for some reason seemed confused about something. "I won't let you hurt her!" she hissed, squaring her shoulders as she stormed towards Merlin. He might have range with his spells, but she was good in a scrap, she just had to get close enough. The old physician backed away, but Cameron couldn't split her focus, if she were to stand up to Merlin.

Merlin's eyes widened, and Cameron could feel magic rush through her again as his eyes glowed and his hand waved. She could hear crashing from behind her, he was wrecking Princess Elena's room, but Cameron didn't take the time to find out why as she was finally close enough and punched him hard in the stomach. They were soon a tussle of clothes and limbs, he was thin and tall, and though she managed to make him stumble and drop his staff, he still had length of arms in his favor, and managed to successfully push her past the point where any of her kicks or punches could connect.

Before she could resort to biting, however, the door flew open, and in came Grunhilda, looking furious. Cameron smirked, but then her eyes caught Gaius approaching the princess. Spinning herself out of Merlin's hold, she flew to Elena's side just before he could reach her, a bottle of some red liquid in his hand. So… they intended to poison the princess, then. "Don't try it, old man," she said as her hand grabbed the heavy hair brush from the vanity. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it was available, and Cameron had fought with less. She glared, and Gaius stepped back, a dubious, but worried expression on his face.

Magic crackled in the air, and Cameron risked a glance at Grunhilda and Merlin. He was using the staff against her, it was shooting what looked to Cameron like blue laser blasts at her, stunning her, but not doing much more than that. Cameron was worried, where were the blasted Sidhe? Weren't they warned about Merlin? Grunhilda had hinted they would attack him when he least expected it, why hadn't they come?

Suddenly, Merlin shot an incredibly powerful blast at Grunhilda, and she exploded, Cameron could feel her magic disperse everywhere, her body falling to the floor in a pile of dust. "NOOOO!" Cameron screamed, forgetting Gaius and hurling herself toward the sorcerer. He shot his staff at her, but missed, hitting the wall behind her, and she reached him, laying into him like an animal, hitting and kicking and tearing at him until he was on the floor, bleeding, and she had the staff in her hand, pointing it at him.

Suddenly, a sound came from behind her, and she spun around to see Gaius holding an empty bottle, and a tiny blue fairy hovering over him. He rushed to the side of Merlin just as Cameron, staff in hand, rushed to Princess Elena's side, gazing up at the Sidhe.

"The potion I gave her prevents her from being possessed again," Gaius informed her as he helped his ward stand up. "The Sidhe will not be able to take over Camelot through Elena."

Cameron narrowed her eyes at the two men. "Do you think Uther would be happy with what you've done? Using magic against magic? If he knew how you've saved his kingdom, he'd execute you. Is that really who you want to serve? Don't you see what you're-"

Just then, the tiny blue fairy flew right into Cameron's mouth, and her eyes grew wide as she closed it instinctively. There was a fairy in her mouth!

"No! Cameron, you can't let the Sidhe possess you, you don't know what they'll-" Merlin began, but stopped suddenly when Cameron swallowed.

Elena started to stir behind her, and Cameron turned her eyes to the two intruders. "Get out," she hissed, venom in her voice, holding up the staff menacingly. The two of them quickly looked at each other, then backed out of the room, Merlin still limping. When they had left, Cameron looked down at the pile of sparkling dust that had once been her friend, tears springing to her eyes. Quickly, however, she wiped them away as the princess sat up.

"Oh, dear, what happened?" she asked, shaking her head as if to clear it.

Taking a deep breath, Cameron gave her a sympathetic smile as she turned towards the princess. "You fainted, Your Highness," she said, going to Elena's side. "Are you feeling alright?" she asked, worriedly. She didn't know what other effects Gaius's potion would have on her.

Elena smiled brightly. "I've never felt better in my life!" she said, pushing out her chair to stand. "I feel terrific! All my nerves have gone," she said, then trailed off as her eyes took in the state of the room. "What happened here?" she asked, worried.

"Earthquake," Cameron responded, saying the first thing that came to mind. "Probably why you fainted. Don't worry, happens here all the time, I'll have this cleaned up in a jif," she said, bending down to do just that, scooping the pile of pixie dust from the floor into the pocket of her apron. "Why don't you walk around a bit, Your Highness, while I tidy up?" she asked, as Elena seemed to be doing just that, in shoes she couldn't walk across the floor in an hour earlier, no less. She watched Elena walk toward the full-length mirror behind her changing screen, thoughtful. She seemed so much calmer now, so… confident.

Had Merlin been right about the Sidhe?

Cameron finished scooping up the pixie dust as she tried to work through what just happened. The Sidhe had flown into Cameron's mouth, and in an instant, she had felt it ask her something, and felt herself respond and relax, and then it was…

Did she really swallow it? Was it in her stomach now? Or… was she like Elena had been, with a Sidhe growing inside of her, subtly guiding her, making her trip all over herself? Cameron looked in the vanity mirror. Her hair didn't seem to be flying around everywhere, though it was a bit mussed up due to just having been in a fight. She didn't feel conflicting energies within her. Yet, she could still feel the Sidhe, buried deep down, she knew it was alive, like it was… resting. Hibernating? Would she one day become like Elena had been? Would the Sidhe ever take over her?

Or was she different, because she was Unborn? She would never find out, now, not with Grunhilda gone, the pixie had been the only one who knew how to summon the Sidhe. Cameron glanced at the staff she had taken from Merlin, so far unnoticed by the princess, and placed it under the bed before straightening everything else up. What had Merlin hoped to accomplish, trashing the princess's room, anyway? Wouldn't it have made more sense for him to focus his magic on Cameron instead? Yet, the only time he even attempted to use magic against her was when he shot at her with the staff, and missed. Was he afraid of hurting her? That didn't make any sense, he had been more than willing to kill Grunhilda right in front of her, and Cameron was a creature of magic, just as Grunhilda was. Yet, he had let Cameron get close enough to beat him soundly and steal his staff. Why wasn't _she_ a pile of dust on the floor?

There would be time to wonder about all of that later, however. For now… it was time to get Princess Elena to her wedding.

 **A/N: Okay, so this chapter was from Cameron's point of view. In case you are confused, please know that next chapter will explain this battle from Merlin's point of view. Questions, comments? Please hit the review button, I totally squeal like a little girl when I get those. ;)**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long with the update, last weekend was crazy. This has a tiny bit of canon dialog in it, I usually try to avoid that at all costs, but some things just have to stay the way they were, like fixed points in time, you know? Heh, maybe I've been watching too much Dr. Who...**

 **I don't own Merlin.**

Merlin watched Arthur go through the doors to his place at the altar, an air of confidence around him, but to Merlin, seeming more afraid than during any battle he had ever seen him face. What he did now would change his life forever, would change the kingdom forever. This moment was, perhaps, the greatest test of what kind of king Arthur would one day grow to be.

Arthur had asked him, a servant, for his opinion on the matter, moments before he was to be married, and for Merlin, all of his own frustrations from the battle he had just faced himself, melted away. His friend, his Once and Future King, needed his advice, and Merlin had responded the way he always responded to Arthur. With the pure truth of the matter. With so many lies and deception around, honesty was a beautiful gift. He only wished he could be honest about who he really was…

But then, the choice was still Arthur's, and it was a difficult choice to make. Merlin knew Arthur loved Gwen, but he also knew Arthur loved his father. This decision wasn't really about who he wanted to marry… in truth, Arthur had to decide whether love for his father meant blind obedience to him. It meant finding the line, that point where Arthur must choose to follow his own will, instead of his father's. It was a line every person had to find as they came of age. Oh, things were complicated, being a prince, fealty to your king was blended with obedience to your father. A prince was the only person a king could tell who to marry, after all. But then, things weren't meant to be easy for future kings. Or for the warlocks who protected them…

From Merlin's vantage point in the periphery, he could see Cameron slip into the back of the room. This was Merlin's battle, his decision, his test. Hard green eyes stared up at Elena and Arthur, as if trying to avoid looking anywhere else, to avoid looking at him, a fact for which Merlin was grateful. He tried to keep his eyes on her while watching the proceedings out of the corner of his eye. Whatever she planned, he would be ready.

"Wait," Arthur said, and Merlin's gaze snapped to the prince of its own accord. The priest, well, _everyone_ , looked startled, and Arthur took a deep breath before continuing. "There is something I should've said a long time ago. Something from the heart I dare not speak. Elena, you are a wonderful woman, and a beautiful bride, but I cannot deny my feelings," he said, a ghost of a glance landing on Gwen, standing in the crowd, and Elena's eyes followed.

The princess smiled knowingly. "You do not love me," she stated more than asked, not looking upset in the slightest as Arthur shook his head. If Merlin had to guess, he'd say Elena looked more… _relieved_.

"And I think, if you are honest, you do not love me either," Arthur added, and Merlin noticed his shoulders relax slightly as Elena shook her head, smiling.

"No," Elena responded, casting an apologetic glance to her father.

"Then we are both here out of duty," Arthur said, and Merlin could feel the icy glare Uther sent his son's way. "Can you forgive me?" Arthur asked Elena, who, for her part, seemed much happier now than he had seen her since she arrived.

"I agree with all you have said," Elena replied, and Merlin wondered if she had been about to stop the wedding proceedings if Arthur hadn't. " _Thank you_ , Arthur," she said meaningfully, her eyes dancing.

Merlin glanced at the crowd just in time to see Cameron slip back out.

 _It was time._

* * *

Cameron wasted no time. She had rushed straight to Elena's room after the wedding… well, _wasn't_ … and collected the staff she had stolen from Merlin, as well as Grunhilda's pouch, in which she kept the remnants of the kindly old pixie. Just before the wedding, Elena had offered her a position as her handmaiden, and Cameron had accepted, because at the time, she had thought Elena would still be in Camelot, married to Prince Arthur, and she wanted to be where she could protect the Princess from Merlin. Though she was relieved that the wedding was cancelled, it also meant that, as Elena's handmaiden, Cameron would need to travel with her. She would need to leave Camelot.

She wasn't ready for that decision, yet.

If she were going to find Mr. Emrys in Camelot, it had to be now, while the others were still distracted with the wedding. Cameron ran to the physician's quarters, thankful the halls were empty, and burst into the empty room, to find what looked like the aftermath of a nuclear warhead. The place was a mess of torn pages and broken glass, and no piece of furniture seemed to be in its right place.

Perhaps she had been wrong about the Sidhe… they _had_ gone after Merlin. They just hadn't succeeded.

Cameron shook her head and carefully made her way to Merlin's room. Or maybe he just destroyed this place by accident, the way he tried to destroy Princess Elena's room. Maybe he just had lousy aim.

Sitting on his bed, Cameron closed her eyes and focused on the magic in the room. She remembered how Mr. Emrys's magic looked, pale, watery, like the Lake of Avalon. Desperately she searched for something, anything, that looked like that, but to no avail.

After a long moment of fruitless searching, she opened her eyes. She couldn't stay here… Merlin and Gaius would be returning soon. "Mr. Emrys," she said to the room, hoping that if he _were_ here somehow, he could hear her. "I'm sorry. I've failed. I can't find you anywhere." A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away, angrily. "I have to leave Camelot. I'm going to a place called Gawant, it isn't far away, at least, not according to Elena. I guess _you'll_ have to find _me_ , now," she said, and, reaching up, pulled off the white cloth Gwen had given her to tie her hair up. Her short hair was messy, sweaty, and badly in need of a shampoo. She bent down to pick up a broken piece of glass, then, grasping one small lock of her hair, sawed away at the roots of it with the sharp edge of the glass, until it came away in her hand. She wouldn't have much time for this, so quickly, she tore a tiny strip from the white linen her head covering was made out of, and used it to tie the lock of hair. Then, she placed the lock under the floorboards under the bed, where Merlin kept his other magical treasures.

The games she and Mr. Emrys played were usually one-sided; they were a ruse for Cameron's training, so it made sense she would usually be the seeker. But, occasionally, Mr. Emrys would feel the need to show off by seeking _her_ , and every single one of _those_ games would start by him reaching over and pulling one of her hairs out. She would always ask him why, usually after trying to elbow him, and usually he would just laugh and walk away, but once he told her it was because she didn't have enough magic to find. He said that sorcerers could use a part of someone, like a lock of hair, to scry for them, to use magic to find them. Mr. Emrys would know what it meant, her leaving the lock behind, and Cameron knew that if she was mad enough to look under the floorboards for _him_ , it would probably be the first place _he_ looked. He was as mad as they came, after all, her master.

With haste, she slipped out of the room as she tied her hair back into its covering, making her look no different from the other servant girls. Well, except for the staff in her hand. Once she made her way out of the castle, she cast about until she saw Lord Godwin's carriage. Running towards it, she opened the carriage and slid the staff just under the seat, wedging it in hard enough so that it wouldn't move and roll around when the carriage was being pulled. That done, she quickly ran to Gwen's house. She would need to collect her things and leave a note thanking Gwen for all she'd done. Smiling, she pulled the door open and stepped inside.

She didn't know which came first, the pain or the blackness…


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Alright, guys! New chapter! I should be able to get one more out before I have to go back to work, I'll do my best to, anyway. Enjoy!**

 **I don't own Merlin.**

Cameron awoke to the smell of water and the cool evening breeze, and at first thought she must have dozed off somewhere. That is, until she felt the ropes cutting into her wrists, from behind her back. And the dull throbbing of her head. With some effort, she opened her eyes to see Merlin, standing with his back to her, gazing out over the lake, his staff back in his hand. "I just don't get you," he said to her, without turning, and Cameron groaned slightly. "You talk about saving people, then you turn around and try to overthrow the kingdom. You pretend to be Guinevere's friend, yet your actions put her in danger, and you don't even care. You claim to be on the side of magic, yet you're hunting down a sorcerer. Just what _are_ you, Cameron? Whose side are you on?" he demanded, turning to her.

Cameron was glaring at him. "Whose side am _I_ on?! Look who's talking! You're a sorcerer, yet so far, you seem to attack and _murder_ every creature of magic you come across! Is Uther paying you to do this? Be his private sorcerer? You're doing his job well enough!" she spat.

Merlin stepped forward angrily, his knuckles white on his staff. "I would _never_ serve Uther!" he hissed.

"But you'll serve Arthur. Pretty much the same thing, far as I can see. They both want to see magic destroyed, don't they?" she said more than asked, pulling at her restraints.

"You're wrong about Arthur," Merlin responded, turning his gaze onto the setting sun. "He's different. He's destined for great things," he said.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Cameron, and her eyes widened. "Oh. _Oh_ …" she said, and pressed her lips together. "Poor Gwen," she said softly, sighing. "Or, does Arthur not feel the same way about you?" she asked, trying to sound as inoffensive as possible, not sure if she were succeeding. Of course, people were people, though it occurred to Cameron that they weren't really as forward-thinking concerning homosexuality in this time as they were in her own…

Merlin scowled in confusion, before realization dawned on his face, followed by a look of sickened horror. "What? NO!" he said, shaking his head emphatically. "It's not like _that!_ Arthur's destined to be the Once and Future King!"

Cameron stared at him hard. "The Once and Future King is supposed to bring magic back to the world. Do you really think Arthur wants to do that?" she asked, her anger giving way to sadness.

"People change," Merlin said, glancing back up at the horizon. The sun was almost down.

"What do you want with me?" Cameron asked. "Trying to work up the nerve to murder me? Oh, wait, you don't have a problem doing _that_ ," she said, referring to Grunhilda.

"I'm not going to kill you, I'm going to trade you," Merlin said, continuing to gaze at the sky. Just a few more minutes…

Cameron's eyes followed his, and she went cold. "To the Sidhe. You want to give me to the Sidhe," she said, suddenly realizing just how much trouble she was in. "In exchange for what?" she asked, starting to feel sick.

Merlin turned his gaze to her. "In exchange for their promise to stop attacking Camelot," he told her.

Cameron shook her head. "You don't think they care about me, do you? Because they don't. I'm a servant who failed, you'll get nowhere with the Sidhe King," she insisted, terror seeping into her voice.

"But you're not just a failed servant, anymore," Merlin said, pointing to her chest. "You've got the Sidhe inside you. The Sidhe King may care little for his servants, but he trusted that Sidhe to take a position of power in Camelot, so he must care for it a bit, don't you think?" he said, glancing at the sky once more.

The sun was down.

"Don't do this, Merlin," Cameron said, her voice strained. "The Sidhe… they'll _unmake_ me," she continued, her face pale. She remembered the crippling fear she had experienced when she first met the Sidhe King, and he had been in a good mood then. Instinctively, she knew he had the power to do just that, to dissolve her, to return her to the nothing she really was. Never before, not even in the presence of Price, had she felt such fear, such intimate knowledge of her own fragility. With one careless motion, she would be broken like glass.

"You should have thought of that before you chose their side," Merlin replied coldly, and, holding up the staff, began the incantation that would call forth the gates of Avalon and summon the Sidhe from behind the veil.

Suddenly, it felt like a magical bomb went off, and the lake was bathed in an ethereal light, as the tiny blue fairies came, though this time, they hovered a bit in the distance, unwilling to approach Merlin. Cameron could guess why, and wondered just how many Sidhe the King had sent after Merlin. And just how many of those Merlin had killed.

Soon, the King appeared, hovering before Merlin. "Who is this who dares summon me," he said, though Cameron knew he knew already, he meant something deeper. Like, why?

Merlin gripped his staff. "My name is Merlin, Your Highness. I've summoned you to offer up a trade," he said, gesturing to where Cameron was sitting against the tree.

The Sidhe King hovered towards her, his dark eyes dangerous, and Cameron felt like there was hot lead in her gut. With his nearness came the overwhelming feeling of dread she had felt last time. "You have failed me, unborn," he said.

Cameron bowed her head. "I know," she almost whispered, her usual defiance gone, all thought of defending herself vanished. It reminded her of Elena's hair, how each strand would stop fighting once she touched it, and part of her mind wondered at the power the Sidhe King had over her.

"She has the Sidhe inside her, the one that was in Elena," Merlin said. "You can have them both, _if_ you stop your attacks on Camelot," he informed the fairy king, as he tightened his grip on his staff.

The Sidhe King glanced up at that, then turned back to Cameron. "Is this true?" he asked her. "Does she live?"

Cameron looked up to meet the king's eyes. "She's asleep, Esteemed Majesty, but she's alive," she said softly.

The king gazed at her. "You are not human, child. You are dream and darkness, wrapped in magic. Where you have sent her, there is only one way to retrieve her…"

A tear ran down Cameron's cheek. Was that really what she was? Nothing more than an illusion of a person? She _thought_ she wasreal… but what did that mean? Were her memories even real memories?

If she wasn't even real, was it really a loss if she were gone?

Cameron sent her thoughts to the Sidhe sleeping within her. It was safe, secure, cocooned there, but what sort of life was that, even for a being like the Sidhe? If she were the king, choosing whether or not to keep one of his subjects asleep inside an illusion, what would she choose?

Even if it meant the illusion had to fade?

"I understand, Esteemed Majesty," she said softly. The fact that he had even given her warning told her he was not entirely displeased with her… she had saved the fairy within Elena, after all. She sent a silent apology to her master, wherever he was. Everything she knew was about to be over…

"Unbind her," the Sidhe King said, his voice grave. Cameron bowed her head again. She knew he wasn't having her unbound to set her free, but to… _set her free._ Another tear fell, splashing on the leaves beneath her.

Merlin hesitated a moment, then went to the tree and cut the ropes with a small knife he had brought for that very purpose. Cameron's arms swung to her side, and she rubbed at her wrists, looking down at the bird circling on her hand, like a falcon nearing its prey. Was this an illusion, as well?

She wouldn't have long to wonder.

A tightness formed in her stomach as she felt the breeze from the flutter of the Sidhe King's wings, as he came close enough to touch her. She felt the build-up of magic around her, felt like she was about to be shattered into a million pieces, as his tiny hand came to rest on the top of her bowed head…

And a burst of light threw the Sidhe King backwards, with enough force that he almost fell to the ground. He glared at Merlin furiously. "I said unbind her!" he snarled, and Merlin shook his head, confused.

But Cameron was smiling, slightly at first, but moment by moment her smile grew, and she looked up, her eyes wide with wonder. Her despair had lifted, as if it had never been there to begin with. "He can't," she said, understanding in her voice. Understanding of what she was… of why she was important. "Only my master can unbind me, and he isn't here," she said, her eyes almost dancing.

The king glared at her. "Where is this master of yours?" he demanded.

Cameron smiled. "Busy. Trying to save the world. To save magic. He'll turn up, I'm sure, and do you know why, Esteemed Majesty?" she asked, standing up. "Because he isn't finished with me yet. He made me for a reason, and until my mission is over, only _he_ can unmake me," she said, her confidence returning. She found herself wondering what she was so afraid of in the first place. It was her master's magic, it had to be. She was under the protection of her master's magic, and it seemed to nullify whatever power the Sidhe had over her.

The king turned on Merlin. "You have tried to make a fool of me!" he shouted, but Cameron wasn't finished.

"You're both fools!" she said, angrily, as she stormed over to them. "You are both creatures of magic, powerful magic, and here you are, bickering over a tiny kingdom, when the fate of the very _world_ is at stake! You should be allies, not enemies! You _need_ each other!" she said, glaring at them both. "You are on the same side," she said, forcing herself to calm down. "You both want to protect magic. Am I right?" she asked, crossing her arms and gazing at them expectantly.

"I want to see a world where those with magic can practice it freely," Merlin said evenly, not taking his eyes off the Sidhe King.

"Humanity has destroyed too many with magic. It upsets the balance, it must be stopped," the Sidhe King replied darkly.

Merlin pressed his lips together. "There is a prophecy, if it is fulfilled, we will both have what we want," he said cautiously. "But, the prophecy concerns Camelot, and its prince, and I will protect them no matter what," he warned.

"Camelot is the very source of the blight on magic!" the Sidhe King protested. "If this Uther is not stopped, there will be no magic left to save!"

"It's a battle on two fronts, then," Cameron said, causing the fairy king and the sorcerer to look at her strangely. "One from the inside, one from the outside," she explained. "What? I watch a lot of telly," she added, when they had not looked away.

"Do not attack Camelot again," Merlin said, his expression thoughtful as he turned back to the fairy king. "In return, I will warn you of any moves Uther will make against magic," he said.

The king thought it over, and gazed at him warily. "And if we need your help to stop him?" he asked.

Merlin frowned. "You may have it, but _only_ if it does not interfere with my ability to protect Arthur," he replied.

"Then we have an accord," the Sidhe King said, and his gaze slid to Cameron. "This… _unborn_ ," he said, but Cameron stepped forward.

"Esteemed Majesty, I think I'll speak for myself, from now on," she said, standing as tall as her short stature would allow. "I don't belong to Merlin, and he can't trade me to you. And personally, I'd like to keep my skin on, for the time being. If you don't mind," she added, trying hard not to be _too_ irreverent.

The Sidhe King frowned at her. "The Sidhe within you is… _important_ , to me. I would have her back."

Cameron swallowed, then leveled a gaze at the king. "Grunhilda told me that promises are very important to the Sidhe," she said.

"They are," the king responded.

"My master… showed me how to make a promise, a special kind, that can't be broken," Cameron said, fidgeting. Mr. Emrys had _also_ told her not to go around making these kinds of promises, but she needed to know she wasn't walking around with a target on her back all the time. "I will make you this promise," she said, taking a deep breath. She had to word this _exactly_ right, Emrys had said, or things could go very badly. Gazing into the king's eyes, she said, "As long as the Sidhe sleeps within me, I will guard her with my life." She clenched her left hand, focusing on the bird there, the magic that Emrys had left with her, the very magic that protected her, that, she knew now, bound her into being. " _Ic ásweree, ic ásweree, ic ásweree Þriwa_ ," she said, and with each word, she felt a shift in the magic around her, not a gathering of it, like when Merlin or Grunhilda or the Sidhe King did magic, but more like, a stretching of what was already there, a re-shaping of it, and the final word seemed to harden it, like…

Like a knot being pulled tight.

Merlin was gazing at her, curiously, and the Sidhe King nodded. "So mote it be," he said solemnly, and flew backwards, towards the lake. He turned his gaze to Merlin. "Should you need me, you know how to call me. Should I need you, I shall send a messenger to you. _Try_ not to kill them," he said, and with a flash of bright light, he and the rest of the Sidhe were gone.

Merlin was dazed for a moment by the bright light, then turned from the lake to look at Cameron…

And met her fist. She was shorter than he was, and some of the impact was lost in having to reach his face, but it stunned him enough that she was able to send a sharp elbow into his stomach, grind her heal over the top of his foot, and wrench the staff from his hands. She jumped away from him, then, wielding the staff dangerously as he tried to catch his breath. "That was for trying to kill me," she said, glaring at him.

Merlin sucked in a breath. "I thought… you wanted… to be allies," he gasped. What was her elbow _made_ out of?

Cameron narrowed her eyes. "I do. Notice how I didn't try to kill _you_ just now," she retorted. "There's still the matter of Emrys between us," she said darkly.

"Why do you want Emrys?" Merlin asked, not understanding. Hadn't she been insisting she was an ally to magic? Why was she hunting him?

Cameron shook her head, incredulously. "God, you're a duffer, aren't you? Haven't you figured it out yet?" she demanded. She held up her left hand, the bird on which was still moving in circles. "Look at it. It's _his_ magic! Emrys is my _master_!" she said, exasperated, and turned away, in what she hoped was the general direction of Camelot. She had to come up with a good excuse for why she was gone to Princess Elena, they were due to leave tomorrow morning at first light. Not to mention, she had to speak with Gwen and re-hide her staff...

When Cameron was out of sight, Merlin shook his head, as if to clear it. Master? He… _he_ was someone's _master_? No… no, she was from the future. He was _going_ to be someone's master.

No. He was going to be _her_ master.

This insolent, rude, violent, angry little girl… no, _unborn_ , she wasn't even a real person… was going to be his apprentice one day. Not servant… not if he were teaching her magic things… _apprentice_. One day, he was going to consent to teach… _her._

"What did I do to deserve this?" he asked the universe, still quite stunned, as he absently rubbed the quickly forming bruise on his jaw where she had punched him.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Okay, guys... first, I want to give you a heads-up, Cameron may be leaving Camelot, but she isn't leaving this story. And she isn't gone for good... Merlin got a bombshell dropped on him in the last chapter, and needs some time to process, don't you think? Besides, a maidservant from the kitchens doesn't get to go out much, but the handmaiden of an equestrian-loving princess? Just you wait...**

The morning sun was just peeking above the trees, warming Cameron's skin, as Gwen laid a hand on her shoulder. Turning, Cameron smiled as Gwen passed her a bag. "I've packed some extra things, trousers and tunics, I know how you hate wearing dresses," she said conspiratorially.

Cameron grinned at that, and looked down at the pale yellow dress she was wearing. "I don't know… it's starting to grow on me," she said, in a tone that indicated she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Gwen laughed. "Well, it won't _actually_ grow, so when it starts getting too snug, come to me, and I'll make you something more suitable," she offered.

"Only if you let me pass you some coin this time," Cameron countered with a mock-glare.

"Not a chance! Believe me, you're doing me enough of a favor, moving out, I've got one less mouth to feed," Gwen teased, as Cameron dove her hand into the bag, looking for something.

"Without me here, who's going to add the proper amount of salt to your stew, eh?" Cameron retorted, smiling as her hand found what it was looking for.

"Oh, I think I'll manage," Gwen said, nose wrinkling at the thought of Cameron's overly-salted stew. She watched as the girl pulled out a small, flat square from the bottom of her sack, made of a material Cameron had said was called 'plastic'. "What are you doing?" she nearly whispered, looking around to make sure no one saw.

Cameron kept the small ID card hidden in the palm of her hand, and looked at Gwen meaningfully. "I want you to keep this. To remember me by," she said solemnly, pressing the plastic card into Gwen's hand.

Gwen's eyes went wide, and she looked down at the incredibly distinct picture, 'photograph', Cameron had called it. "I don't know what to say," Gwen said. She'd never owned a painting before, but such a thing as this was dangerous to possess, if it were ever found.

Cameron gazed at her levelly. "There's another reason I want you to keep it," she said, keeping her voice low, and glancing at her left hand, a habit Gwen was accustomed to, though she never really understood it. Cameron's eyes met hers. "I came to Camelot to look for someone," she said, having already told Gwen part of this story, and Gwen nodded knowingly. "I haven't found him, but things are getting… dangerous for me, here," she said, wincing as Gwen's eyes went to the cut on Cameron's head. Cameron had told Gwen the story she had told Elena - that she had gone out to look for Grunhilda and fell into ditch - but she knew Gwen didn't believe a word of it, and was waiting for an actual explanation. Cameron sighed. "One day, though, he'll come looking for me. If he does, if an old man comes around asking about me… give him this," she said, and Gwen nodded, slipping the card discretely into the pocket of her apron.

"Are you ever going to tell me?" Gwen asked her, and Cameron pressed her lips together, knowing exactly what her friend meant. She swallowed.

"If I told you everything, Gwen, I'd put you in danger. Just what I've told you already endangers you. I don't want anything to happen to you, especially after…" Cameron stopped, knowing Gwen already knew what she meant, and not wishing to speak of her father's death aloud.

"What of Grunhilda, then?" Gwen asked, changing the subject. "Shall I keep an eye out for her, as well?" she asked, her eyes betraying the fact that she knew Cameron's story last night was a lie.

The sadness in Cameron's expression told her the answer, but she let Cameron speak. "Grunhilda is dead," Cameron said to her. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, but she managed to keep her voice steady. "She was a pixie," she said softly, and pulled a small leather sack out of her apron pocket, which she held reverently. "This is all that is left of her," she said, swallowing hard, unable to meet Gwen's eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Cameron," Gwen replied, as the girl slipped the bag back into her apron pocket. Impulsively, she reached out and held the girl tightly to her, embracing her. "You should have told me."

Tears streamed down Cameron's face, then, as she sobbed for a few moments into Gwen's shoulder, before getting ahold of herself. She had cried all that night, she would not start up again. Gwen released her, and she wiped her face. "What is that?" Gwen asked suddenly, and Cameron frowned in confusion. Gwen touched a spot on the back of her neck, just behind her right shoulder, where the neckline of her dress partially revealed a small blue mark.

Cameron reached her hand back to the spot, but it was in a place where she couldn't see. "What does it look like?" she asked, curiously.

Gwen frowned, and pulled the neckline of her dress down slightly, so she could see the whole thing. "It looks like…" she shook her head at the level of detail. "Amazing," she breathed.

"What?" Cameron insisted, dying to know.

"Well… it's a fairy," she said, perplexed. "A tiny, blue, sleeping fairy."

Cameron swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "A fairy," she said softly. It was the Sidhe inside her, it had to be. But why would it leave a mark on her skin?

Instantly, her eyes went down to the mark on her left hand. Her master had placed that mark there, had told her what it was for. But… had the Sidhe done the same? Cameron didn't think so… it was asleep, she could feel it slumbering, all the time, it had cast no spells inside her, she knew it. Then…

Did Elena have a mark of a fairy on her, when the Sidhe was possessing her? Cameron didn't remember seeing any, but hadn't seen Elena's entire body, now had she? It could have been…

' _You are dream and darkness, wrapped in magic,'_ the Sidhe King had said. Could it be the magic that bound her, reacting to what was inside? Cameron didn't like to think about that… she was a person, no matter what had made her, or what she was made out of, and it would do no favors to her sanity to think otherwise. It was just another thing to ask her master, whenever she found him. She shrugged. "With all the strange things that have happened to me, a fairy tattoo is the least of my worries," she said, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes, and Gwen sighed in exasperation.

"Will you at least promise to be careful in Gawant?" Gwen asked, knowing she was unlikely to get any more answers out of the girl.

Cameron smirked. "Careful is my middle name," she said smugly.

"No, it's not, I have your ID, remember?" Gwen said, eyebrow raised. "'Careful' is nowhere on it."

Cameron laughed at that, hefting the bag. "Well, then I'll have to make do with my other skills, won't I?" she called over her shoulder, and started walking toward the carriage. She would need to help with Princess Elena's things, after all.

Gwen watched her go, shaking her head. That girl was bound to get into trouble. And when she did, Gwen felt sorry for the trouble.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I don't own Merlin.**

A boy sat up high in a tree, gazing out at the two riders speeding across the sunlit meadow, toward the woods, faster than any horses he had ever seen run. Pale blue eyes followed the two ladies as they flew down the hill, slowing only when they were close enough to the forest for the proximity to the trees to make them fear for the horses.

The boy loved watching them ride. Druids didn't ride horses, and he always wondered what it would be like, to be on the back of one, flying down the hill that fast. Of course, it wasn't just the horses that drew him away from the safety of his camp every day to watch. The ladies would always come to the small spring, just below where he hid, to water their horses, and the boy would wait and watch, listening to their conversation, just watching their movements, especially… _hers._

Princess Elena was known to the druids at the camp nearest the border Gawant shared with Camelot, and though she never spoke with them directly, she had shown them kindness in the past, just as her nursemaid had, by never speaking of their presence to her father, the king. Gawant was not as insistent in their laws against sorcery as Camelot was, but should a sorcerer ever come to the king's attention, he would be pressured by Camelot's king to have them executed. And so, the druids in Gawant avoided the king's attention, and his attention, in turn, neatly avoided them. It wasn't exactly equality, but it was peace, and it was enough for the druids.

Well, most of the druids. The druid boy continued to watch from his perch, frowning at himself. Why was he doing this? Ever since things had gone so wrong at the last druid camp he had come to, he swore to himself that he would try, _really try_ , to make a life of peace, to forget the past and to finally find balance. And he was doing that here, in Gawant, away from those who knew him, those who regarded him in sideways stares when they thought he wasn't looking, who talked about him in hushed whispers or softened mind-speech. He would _not_ cause trouble here, he would not bring the wrath of those who had finally accepted him unconditionally. But… _she_ had started coming with the princess on her horse rides, the princess's new handmaiden, a girl not much older than he was, and the boy couldn't understand why exactly, but he was transfixed. He knew there was a time when every boy fell under the spell of a pretty girl, but the young druid thought there was more to it than that.

As though destiny played a part.

The girl he was watching so carefully pulled off her head covering, revealing a tangle of messy brown hair, and dipped it into the stream. She was sweating, it had been a long ride, and after wringing it out, she slowly wrapped it back around her hair, still wet and cool from the stream. The boy shook his head ruefully… she was going to catch a cold that way. The princess said as much to her, but the handmaiden merely shrugged weakly, stating that she couldn't really feel it, anyway.

This caused the druid boy's stomach to clench, and he gazed at her with new eyes, looking her over. She was pale, sweating, weak… she was ill. What was she doing riding around at such speeds? He could see now how her hands shook… she was in no shape to-

"Well, Cameron, are you ready to ride back?" the princess asked amiably, and the young handmaiden smiled.

"Of course, milady," she said, though when the princess turned away, she grimaced, shakily getting to her feet, making a show of smoothing out her dark green dress as she got her balance. The handmaiden reached up to climb onto the horse…

Then slid to the ground, unconscious.

The druid boy's eyes widened, and his feet hit the ground about the same time Princess Elena's did. "Cameron!" she cried, getting to the girl first, her eyes coming up to fix on the boy as he came close. "Wait!" she called, as the boy quickly realized just what he had done, and was about to run away. "Are you a druid?" the princess asked. "Please, you have nothing to fear from me, just, help my handmaiden, I beg of you," she asked desperately.

The boy gazed down at the handmaiden. She was still breathing, but her breaths were shallow, and she was still sweaty and pale. He frowned. "The elders will know what to do," he said to the princess, looking up at her. "Come with me," he said, making his decision.

Well… so much for peace…

 **A/N: Okay, guys, sorry this one was so short, the next ones will be longer, I just had to introduce the fourth major character in this fic. I really hope this isn't a Mary Sue fic, but, alas, writing an OC is just no fun without a love interest… ;) And this one should be nice and complicated…**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Okay, my dear readers, here's another chapter. Still a bit Cameron-centric, I promise, Merlin will be making an appearance very soon, though.**

 **I do not own Merlin. (If I did, maybe** _ **he**_ **could write this for me… lol!)**

Life seemed to only come in flashes for Cameron, lately.

She was looking back at Camelot, disappearing in the distance, in the carriage with Princess Elena, the bumping about making her nauseous and wishing once again for rubber tires and asphalt. The further they went, the more sleepy she got, after her ordeal with Merlin, and she dozed off…

Then she was brushing out the princess's hair, trying to remember why it felt different than it had before, but strangely unable to do so…

Then she was wandering about the castle at night, unable to sleep, unsure why, gazing at the palm of her left hand, sometimes for hours, before she remembered something used to be there, but forgetting again before she could wonder what…

Humming a tune, but unable to remember what it was called when the princess asked…

Mounting a horse, but struggling at it, and unable to remember if that were her first time, or if she had just forgotten how…

At first, she had just seemed to stare off into space once in a while, but more and more, she found herself in new places, with no memory how she had got there. Nothing seemed overly amiss to the princess, however, so she must have been doing _something_ right, though Elena would often ask if something was the matter. Cameron wasn't sure if there was, or not. Was life always like this?

Strength seemed to go the way of her memory, it seemed… unless she was always weak, Cameron couldn't really tell. She had a feeling, a feeling of foreboding, like there was something important she was forgetting, like she was…

Like she was doomed, somehow.

The handmaiden went through the motions of being a handmaiden, because that was what handmaidens did, Elena would tell her to do something, and she would do it, but more and more, the handmaiden began to feel as though she weren't a handmaiden at all.

She was a ghost.

And she was fading away.

She had no concept of time anymore, an eternity or a day later, she was riding with Princess Elena, and they had stopped by the stream, and she had dipped her head scarf into it, hoping the cold water would wake her, but it felt just like more _nothing_ , and then…

Then she fell.

* * *

" _Master_ ," the girl muttered, not for the first time, and Mordred glanced up at the unconscious form draped over the back of the horse. Tightly he gripped the horse's reins in his hand, his brow furrowed.

"Hold fast, milady," he said softly, for though the girl on the horse was only a handmaiden, and he knew her name, the boy still called her that. She was close to his age, and his station, but the high regard in which he held her set her apart in his own mind. He would not use her name, not until she gave it to him freely. He had never been responsible for another life before, and it was this responsibility, as much as… well, something perhaps a bit less noble… that caused him to consider himself her servant on this quest. She had a need, and he was seeing it filled. What other definition of servant was there?

The druid elders had given Mordred this quest, to take the girl to the High Priestess at the Isle of the Blessed. Though the ancient temple was inhabited no more, since the Great Purge, Tirmor, the druid seer, said Mordred would find the High Priestess there. The Isle of the Blessed was just over Gawant's borders, not too considerable a distance, and Mordred had eagerly accepted, just as they knew he would. Princess Elena had donated the horse Cameron was now strapped to, as well as a lovely necklace to sell for coin, and wished him a safe journey, knowing that to send more aid would cause suspicion and possibly alert her father to the druids' presence. Mordred had promised to look after Cameron carefully, and was determined to see the girl healed of whatever this affliction was.

Light was fading over the horizon as they began to approach the mist-covered waters that surrounded the mystical isle. The trees around it seemed twisted somehow, gnarled, and Mordred's keen senses told him something was definitely out of balance here. It was not just the Great Purge that had done this. Swallowing hard, he led the horse to the dock, where waited a man with a boat.

Checking Cameron once again, to see that she was still breathing, he slipped two coins out of a sack he kept hidden under his cloak, and walked up to the ferryman. "My friend and I need to cross to the Isle, to see the High Priestess," he told the old man, handing him the coins.

The man did not speak, merely stood back and gestured to the boat. Mordred gave him a nod, then turned back to the horse. Cameron was speaking again.

"Future of Camelot… the prophecy…" she was saying, her sleep warring with desperation, and Mordred wondered what manner of handmaiden dreamed of such things. " _Emrys_ ," she breathed, and Mordred's breath caught. Was she having a vision? The elders had not said if she had magic, but then, they had also said that her affliction was a magical one. If this were a vision, was it the result of whatever curse had been placed upon her? Or was she one of them, before she was cursed?

The ferryman shifted impatiently, and Mordred quickly unstrapped the handmaiden, draping her arm over his shoulders so he could bear her weight more easily. She didn't weigh much at all, and he was surprised at how light she was, lighter than her size would lead one to believe, no matter how ill. Mordred barely had to strain to lift her into his arms, and carry her into the boat, though he was not very broad of shoulder himself. It was as though she were made of feathers, and the boy wondered if he had suddenly become stronger, or if the curse were doing this to her. If it continued, would she float away? He placed his arm around her and leaned her against his chest, a bit awkwardly at the familiarity, even though a part of him secretly reveled in it. If she weighed so little, she could easily fall out of the boat, couldn't she? He would not let that happen.

Silently he watched as the ancient temple emerged through the mist, and Mordred's gut clenched in anticipation. He could feel it, a powerful presence, and _knew_ the High Priestess was here. He swallowed hard. The Druids and the Priestesses of the Old Religion had an uneasy alliance. Druids were healers and seers, and clung to neutrality as a way of life. They believed that conflict was just nature's way of balancing itself, and that the path to peace was to simply remain balanced. When the Great Purge happened, the High Priestess Nimueh asked the Druids for help, but they responded by merely slipping back into the shadows of the trees, willing to heal the injured from either side, but unwilling to get further involved. This was not the same High Priestess, Mordred knew, the elders from the camp he had grown up in had told them _she_ had died at the hands of Emrys, when they were told of the great sorcerer's coming. Yet, it was unlikely that this new High Priestess would be much more inclined to help them.

He could only hope to convince her.

When they arrived at their destination, Mordred lifted Cameron out of the boat, and walked with her through the crumbling stone archway, to a place in the center of the great temple, where grass grew and great stones formed a circle around an altar. Torches lit the area, further evidence that someone was here. Magic thrummed all around him, and instinctively he bowed his head as he entered the circle, gently laying Cameron on the ground beside the altar. If the High Priestess were here, she would already be alerted to their presence. With head bowed and eyes closed, Mordred waited, the picture of druidic patience.

He did not have to wait long.

"Merry met, young druid," a woman's voice said, and Mordred looked up to see a blonde woman in a blue dress approach, her eyes and voice and demeanor speaking of a power Mordred had felt from only one other person. The woman's gaze fell on Cameron, and she raised an eyebrow. "Who is this you bring before me?" she asked cautiously, as though she sensed something… _off_ … about her.

"My Lady," Mordred said, standing to bow. "This girl is a handmaiden to the princess of Gawant, and has fallen under a strange curse," he began solemnly.

The High Priestess merely raised an eyebrow. "The Druids are famous healers, why bring the girl to me?" she asked. Her tone, though not unfriendly, told Mordred she also was not in the business of simply healing everyone who happened by. She gazed at him expectantly.

Mordred swallowed. "The curse is unlike anything the elders have ever seen. No spell cast to heal her has effect, and…"

Just then, the handmaiden started mumbling again, and the High Priestess stepped closer to hear. "King… Arthur…" she groaned. "Magic must… be saved…"

The High Priestess gazed at the girl in a new light. "You said she was from Gawant," she said more than asked, and Mordred nodded. "Yet, she speaks of Arthur," she murmured.

Mordred frowned. "I don't know, but, I thought she might be having visions, my Lady. She spoke of the future of Camelot, before," he said, carefully leaving out any mention of Emrys. Knowledge was of greater value to druids than gold, and Mordred had long been taught to dispense it wisely.

"The future of Camelot," the High Priestess murmured thoughtfully, then her eyes moved to the girl's left hand. On the palm of it, was the faint outline of something, a bird, it seemed. Reaching out, she took the girl's wrist, moving her hand so that it faced the light from the torches. As she moved the girl's hand, the bird moved, so that it still pointed north. "A tracking spell," she said, gazing off to the north, though all they could see was the temple wall. "Pointing towards Camelot." She was silent for a long moment, lost in thought, and Mordred remained silent as well, hoping against hope she would decide to help them.

Suddenly, the High Priestess turned and looked at Mordred. "Well, young druid, I will do my best to heal her. But you will both need to travel with me, there is an urgent matter which demands my attention, and I cannot play nursemaid while I tend to it," she said.

Mordred nodded. "I will gladly tend to her, my Lady," he replied, a bit too enthusiastically, and a glimmer of understanding and amusement reached the High Priestess's eyes.

"Well, then, let us begin," she said, looking over Cameron with excitement, as though she had just purchased a new toy…


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I do not own Merlin.**

A young man sat by a lake, legs crossed, eyes closed, the moist air cooling his skin, causing it to tingle. Magic rippled around him, like the waters of the lake, and he let it spill out, towards the lake, putting aside all heartache and fear of the unknown, opening his usually closed inner self to see whatever was to be seen, to know whatever was to be known. He was not looking for anything in particular, but was ready for anything, looking for anything that was there, normal or not, anything at all...

 _There it was…_ Merlin's magic pooled around what it had found, his own magic, like a reflection, but one he had not cast. It felt like an arm, reaching up out of the water, and it was _his_ arm, but he could not grasp it, was never meant to. It wasn't there, not anymore, just… an echo.

An echo of his magic.

In a place where he had never cast it.

What did it mean, he wondered? His magic prodded the echo, but it faded, combined with his own magic, feeling… home, yet out of place, somehow. There was nothing else to find, not without looking where he dare not look, and Merlin wasn't ready for that, not yet. He called his magic back into himself, and breathed deeply, not realizing he had held his breath. His face tingled, and he opened his eyes, gold changing back to piercing blue, as he rubbed his face to bring feeling back to it.

His conversation with Kilgarrah had been less than enlightening. The Great Dragon had told him that time travel was impossible, that a person could not change the past, lest they change the reason they were even sent, even risk changing the fact of their birth. He had told Merlin that the Unborn could not come into this world on their own, that it would take a powerful magic to bring them, and they would be little more than mindless creatures, with no personality, no soul. In short, Kilgarrah believed that Cameron must have been lying to him.

And yet…

And yet, here was his magic, reaching out, through the lake of Avalon, from somewhere far, far away. The Sidhe king, who would have no reason for such an overly complicated plot to try to trick him, had called her an unborn. She knew of Merlin's magic, but not from the druids, who all knew him as Emrys. And that night, when she cast a magical oath upon herself, her eyes did not glow.

 _His_ did.

 _His_ magic in the tracking spell in her hand. _His_ magic binding her to the land of the living. _His_ magic reaching out to her from the depths of Avalon.

 _His_ magic saving her from the Sidhe.

"Why?" he asked the quiet around him, but the moonlit lake did not answer. "Why would I make such a creature, yet tell her so little? Why would I bring someone into the world, just to make them an enemy of Arthur?" he demanded.

A soft breeze rustling the leaves of the trees around the lake was his only reply.

* * *

Torches lit the somewhat small throne room, casting a long shadow behind and to the right of the young man sitting on the throne, idly cutting pieces off of an apple with a small knife and eating them. His eyes flicked up as a beautiful woman in a blue silk dress glided into the room, and he paused mid-cut, lowering the apple and knife only slightly as he cast her a roguish smirk. "You're late," he said simply, gazing at her for only a moment before resuming his apple-cutting, though his eyes never truly left her.

Morgause merely smiled, acknowledging his remark with a tilt of her head. "Something caught my eye," she said simply, looking his guards over, as though appraising them. "Have you captured the peasant boy?" she asked, almost absently, though Cenred knew better. He had learned by now that, dealing with Morgause was a matter of paying attention to where she was _not_ looking.

"He was exactly where you said he'd be," the young king confirmed, levelling his gaze at her. "I hear you've brought guests," he commented. "Will they also be staying in the dungeon?"

"Not if you want to keep your men alive," Morgause replied, turning to face him, a small smile playing on her lips. "The two I brought with me are _my_ property, and will be treated as such," she said, raising an eyebrow. "I take it you've already sent your men for the handmaiden," she commented, having decided the number of Cenred's men she had seen in the castle seemed a few shy.

Cenred smiled at her attempt to change the subject, but decided to play along. For now. "They should be back by tomorrow evening," he said, popping another piece of apple into his mouth.

Morgause's smile widened, her eyes sparkling. "Soon, the trap will be set," she said, nearly sighing with pleasure.

"And you're certain a couple of peasants are bait enough for Arthur?" Cenred asked, all seriousness. He had expressed doubts about this plan before, especially Morgause's trust in her ally from inside the walls of Camelot.

"These peasants will be. The handmaiden is precious to Arthur, there is nothing he will not do for her," she said, her gaze at him speaking of both seduction and impatience, a combination Cenred had long ago decided was the pure definition of women. "All you must do is convince this Guinevere that, if she doesn't bring Arthur, her brother will die," she said, shrugging as though it should be simple.

"And if you are wrong? If Arthur does not care for the wench as much as you say?" Cenred asked, unable to imagine a noble, especially a crown prince, being that stupid. One did not live long by underestimating one's enemies.

The look the High Priestess shot him warned Cenred he was dangerously close to irritating her, a thing that was generally not wise. The idea caused him to smile, as rather depraved thoughts of how else he might irritate her crept to mind.

"Then, we will start sending him pieces of his precious handmaiden," Morgause hissed, and left the room with the whisper of blue silk sliding across the stone floor.

Cenred cut off another piece of his apple, grinning. This was going to be too easy…

A dark haired boy backed away from the grate he had been listening through, his pale blue eyes hooded in thought. Druids were supposed to remain neutral, to hide, to observe, to maintain balance. If Tirmor were here, he would tell him to stay out of it, to focus on healing the girl if he could, but to keep himself apart from what was happening. To be ready to run at the first sign of trouble.

But it was Prince Arthur they were setting the trap for.

Mordred silently slipped down the corridor and back into the room he had been sharing with the handmaiden. Her color had returned a little since they had come to Fyrien, but not by much. She barely breathed, and her skin was cold to the touch. Removing his cloak, the boy covered her with it, hoping it would restore some of her warmth. "You must wake up," he whispered, blue eyes glancing at the door, then back again. "Please, wake up," he said again. "There is danger."

The girl shifted a little, drawing in another breath. " _Emrys,"_ she whispered.

The boy shook his head, pressing his lips together. "No. My name is Mordred," he said, not for the first time, wishing she could hear him.

" _Mordred_ ," the girl whispered, causing the druid to gasp. " _And the Dread Knight gave unto his king a mortal wound, upon the blood-soaked plains of Camlain…"_ she continued.

Mordred's face fell, as he looked away. She was prophesying again, that was all. The High Priestess Morgause had said that Cameron was a Seer, and believed that could have something to do with why she had been cursed in the first place. It must have been a sorcerer, she had said, and a powerful one, for her powers to have no effect on the girl to heal her. For some reason, the handmaiden, who had obviously been hiding her gift of Sight, was seen as a threat by a powerful sorcerer.

And he had an idea of who could be that powerful.

"My lady, I have to leave your side," Mordred whispered, leaning in closer so that his lips were barely a hair's breadth from her ear. "The High Priestess wishes to see Prince Arthur dead. She has set a trap for him. I cannot allow it," he said slowly, his eyes hardened.

" _Once and future king,"_ Cameron muttered, still asleep. " _Master,_ _I don't understand. He's such a window-licker…"_

Mordred blinked. She was doing it again, shifting from prophecies to her own thoughts, and he felt a shiver as he caught a glimpse of who she really was. It was times like this he thought he might be able to reach her. "Window-licker?" he asked, hoping she would continue, to hold on to herself, to wake up.

A hint of a smile graced the girl's lips, and she shifted again, her hand coming close to where Mordred's rested on the bed. Mordred extended his fingers, and took her small, rough hand into his own. " _Run away with me,"_ she whispered, and for a brief instant, the druid thought she was actually speaking to him.

Then she sighed, her smile faded, and she was gone again.

 **A/N: Sorry this took so long, guys. I wanted it to be longer, but I'm still working on some calculations and whatnot. Please let me know what you think. Next chapter should be up soon…**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Sorry this took so long, guys. I wanted to have another chapter for you as well, but life happened. More to come...**

 **I don't own Merlin.**

Only a handful of lamps twinkled from within the castle walls as Merlin slipped past one house after another in the lower town, trying to avoid notice of the guards patrolling the ground and upper walls. The city was hardly on high alert, however, and Merlin was quite certain one guard he passed was actually asleep. Grinning to himself, he silently crossed the walkway when he heard what sounded like a woman's muffled cry. Sticking to the shadows, the young warlock scanned the area, trying to sense anything amiss, to find out where it had come from. Down the way a bit, there was an open door, and no candle light…

It was Gwen's house.

Eyes widening with alarm, Merlin made his way as fast as he could, without being seen, and arrived just in time to see two men leaving the small thatch-roofed house, both carrying Guinevere's body with them. They treated her gently as they went, and the warlock forced down his stab of fear that she might be dead. If the men had meant to kill her, why bother to move the body? She was unconscious, that was all. He hoped.

Merlin silently cursed. He had to do something, but if he used his magic here, in the streets with so many guards around, he would be too busy running for his own life to be of any help to Guinevere. He had to follow them, then, out of the city, where he could dispatch the two men with the Camelot guards being none the wiser.

Days later, in hindsight, he would kick himself for not thinking to just alert the guards.

The men had horses ready, and a suspicious looking lump by the main gate told Merlin they had either killed the guard there, or the man had fallen asleep. Merlin, lacking a horse, extended a hand at the retreating figures, and whispered, " _Áwréon sporu_." His eyes glowed for a moment as the magic passed through him, and a faint shimmer swept over the ground where the horses had tramped just before disappearing into the woods. Not knowing how long the spell he used to track the men would last, Merlin hurried across the clearing to the woods, following the trail. It was his hope that he might overtake the men when they made camp.

If they ever _made_ camp.

Merlin spent the rest of the night following the magical trail, and trying not to think of all the reasons this was a bad idea…

* * *

Elyan pulled the stolen cloak more tightly around him, casting a sideways glance at the boy on the horse beside his. They had ridden for a good while before entering the forest, and were now travelling at a fast trot, letting the horses wind down a little before finding a place to camp for the night. The blacksmith didn't like the idea of stopping after what he had just escaped from, but it would do them no good if one of their horses lost its footing in the dark and became injured.

Well, if you could call it escape. King Cenred was ruthless and cruel, his soldiers powerful, if a bit slow. But those were evils he knew. The boy who had rescued him, seemed to wield a power greater than King Cenred could ever dream of. Not for the first time, Elyan wondered what would become of him, if the boy got it into his head he didn't care for the dark-skinned blacksmith after all.

"We should make camp here," the boy said, slowing his horse to a stop as he looked around.

Elyan slowed his horse and frowned, glancing over his shoulder the way they had come. "Are you sure they won't find us here?" he asked. He didn't do a lot of hiding out from enemy soldiers in forests, but felt somehow exposed, here. Not that it looked much different to him than any other part of the forest.

Perhaps it was the company he was keeping.

"I can hide us," the boy said, sliding off of his horse. His pale blue eyes reflected the moon's light as he gazed up at Elyan, still on horseback. "You have nothing to fear from me," he said knowingly, and Elyan shivered, feeling as though the boy had just read his thoughts.

Hesitating a moment, the blacksmith dismounted as well, holding the horse's reigns lest it sense his fear and decide to make a run for it. He regarded the youth. "Why did you help me, sorcerer?" he asked, his stomach clenched, but with his shoulders back and head held high. Whatever his fate, he would meet it head-on.

The boy regarded him silently for a long moment, before speaking. "I am a druid," he replied, in that eerie, soft voice of his.

Elyan's eyes widened. The druids were known to be peaceful, but were also known to be recluses. That this one would go so far as to enter a castle full of hostile soldiers just to rescue a blacksmith, made no sense. He felt his eyes narrow. "Druids are healers. They don't go around rescuing people from crazy kings," he objected.

The druid gazed off into the distance for a moment, before asking, "Who's Guinevere?"

The blacksmith went pale. "She- she's my sister," he said, dread filling his gut. "What do you want with her?"

Pale blue eyes met his again. "The High Priestess of the Old Religion is working with King Cenred. They had kidnapped you to convince your sister to bring Prince Arthur of Camelot to the castle, to save you," he said, his voice ever soft, until he got to the part about Prince Arthur, at which time, his voice turned hard and cold. His eyes were like daggers. "Prince Arthur is a good man. I will not see him harmed," he explained.

Elyan shook his head, unable to comprehend any of this. "So, you're saying, the King of Essetir thinks that the Prince of Camelot will come to rescue me, because… because my sister…" Suddenly, his eyes widened. "What will they do to Gwen?" he asked, in a panic.

The boy's eyes bored into his. "They are bringing her to the castle. That is why we have taken this path. If we can stop them, Arthur will have no reason to come," he said, smiling slightly.

Elyan blinked. It was actually a good plan. He looked around them… the forest was too dark to see, except for the light of the moon. They needed a campfire, but Elyan was nervous about it being seen by Cenred's men, who no doubt would be looking for them by now. "So, you said you could hide us?" he asked, causing the boy's smile to widen.

* * *

Morgause entered the dimly lit room, to see the Gawant handmaiden lying there, pale, murmuring softly. The druid boy was not in the room, and had probably gone to fetch something, as he had done often since their arrival. Morgause was familiar with the ways of druids, they valued their freedom, and the High Priestess suspected the boy needed fresh air and grass under his feet from time to time. That he had remained at the side of this girl for so long said much about his sense of loyalty to her. She smiled softly; that could be used to her advantage, if need be. Approaching the girl, she carefully adjusted her long skirts beneath her as she knelt at her bedside.

"Tell me more of this Once and Future King," she said breathily, her gaze deep and expectant. From the moment she first heard the girl speak, when the druid boy brought her to him, she had realized the girl was a seer. When nothing she tried was able to wake the girl, she decided that perhaps it was the girl's power of Sight manifesting itself in an unusual way. For her sister, the Sight came in the form of nightmares, though she had always been able to wake from them. Perhaps this girl simply could not.

" _King Arthur… will unite… all of Albion…"_ the girl muttered in her sleep. _"Bring… magic… back…"_

The High Priestess pursed her lips. She had heard the girl say this before, when they made camp on the way to this castle, and it still made no sense. Arthur Pendragon was just like his father, Uther, in many respects, but most of all in this one; he was no friend to magic. That he was destined to bring magic back to the land was laughable at best, but destiny was rarely what one would expect. Perhaps, if left alive, Arthur could be made to change his mind on the matter; or at least, forced to do as he was destined to. She did not think so, and did not hold to the idea of destiny so strongly that she would not thwart it if it did not suit her purpose… but she did not become High Priestess, did not live this long, without accumulating as much information as she could about something before destroying it.

"How? How will Arthur bring magic back?" she asked the girl.

A small whimper from the girl, not one of pain, but… distress? Worry? What did the girl see behind those closed eyes? _"I am… the Path…"_ she began, and shifted. _"I don't understand, Master,"_ she whined, obviously distressed. _"Why?"_ she asked, her expression one of worry, and… sorrow? Then, it faded into the passivity of sleep again.

Morgause frowned. This was the trouble with getting information from the girl… the prophecies were mixed up with some remembered argument, or perhaps a future argument, with her master. It was obvious that, whoever he was, he had abandoned her, because she would often call out to him. If the girl were awake, she could convince her to new loyalties, but asleep, the girl was nothing more than a sometimes useful source of information.

Taking a deep breath, she prepared to try a different tactic, when the door opened suddenly. Morgause's head spun to see it was Cenred who burst in as though he owned the place. "The prisoner is gone," he said, his expression dark. "It seems your pet druid released him," he accused, sending a glare at the prone form on the bed.

Morgause's eyes narrowed, and she gazed at the girl silently for a long moment, lost in thought. Her eyes fell on the girl's left hand, its fingers only slightly curled, the faint mark on her palm still visible. "Your men will have the blacksmith's sister by nightfall?" she asked thoughtfully.

Cenred relaxed his fists and crossed his arms, watching the High Priestess warily. "Yes," he confirmed, drawing it out in a way that said he wanted to know what was on her mind.

Morgause turned to him, smiling. "All Mordred has done, then, is to hasten our plans. Instead of the girl fetching the young prince, her brother will do so instead. Arthur is much more likely to come rescue his pretty damsel in distress, than he would have been to rescue her brother," she said, looking down at the handmaiden and lightly stroking a finger over the mark on her hand. "As for the druid, leave him to me. Sometimes, a misinformed ally can be more damning than an enemy," she murmured, causing Cenred to grin.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: I'm baaaack! Okay, I know some of you have questions about what's going on with Cameron, I promise to explain it bit by bit, here, and in the next few chapters. Also... Merlin and Arthur! Yay!**

Sunlight pierced through the spaces between the leaves of the trees, dancing about as the wind breezed through, and a particularly bright ray of light hit Merlin's face just as he was awoken by what sounded like a horse's whinny. Squinting, he shielded his eyes with his hand groggily, just as a giant's dark shadow fell over him, blocking most of the offending sunlight. Half a second later, the young warlock realized it was not a giant standing a hand's span away from his head. No… it was something much, much worse.

"Did you forget where your bed was last night, Merlin?" the Prince of Camelot asked, with that look that plainly said he fully expected Merlin to still be half-drunk, it would explain so much. He did not get down from his horse, and Merlin sincerely hoped Arthur didn't intend to have his horse trample him for good measure.

He was about to make some witty comeback (or at least, witty to his own mind), when he suddenly remembered why he _was_ out there. In a panic, he cast about, but could still see the horse tracks he had been following. "Gwen," he said, his voice still rough from a night spent in the cool air.

"No, I'm Arthur. Your prince. The one you're supposed to be _serving_ ," Arthur responded drily, wondering momentarily if knocking his errant manservant on the head would teach him a valuable lesson, or worsen the brain damage Merlin had obviously already suffered.

Merlin turned back to Arthur, glaring. "No, Dollophead, I mean it's Gwen. She was kidnapped last night," he said, watching as Arthur's smirk faded somewhat, the look in his eyes changing from impatient amusement to cautious disbelief.

"That's not something to joke about, Merlin," he said darkly, but Merlin stood his ground, gazing at him seriously.

"I'm not joking, Arthur," he said gravely, his piercing blue eyes intense. "I saw two men take her last night, and followed them so I wouldn't lose the trail," he said, pointing to the horse tracks. They glittered slightly to Merlin's eyes, but to anyone without magic, they would look like normal tracks, if a bit easier to see than one might expect.

Arthur gazed at the tracks, his face all seriousness now, and let his eyes follow them as far as they could. "So… you saw some men kidnap Gwen… but instead of trying to stop them, or alerting the guard, you decided to follow them alone," he said, looking up. "At night. _On foot_ ," he added, sending Merlin a glare.

The warlock shifted on his feet, looking somewhat apologetic. "It was a spur of the moment decision?" he suggested hopefully.

Arthur clenched his teeth on whatever curse was making itself ready on his tongue. After a moment, he said, "Thankfully, one of us has a brain," he said, and gestured to the trees not far away, where another horse stood, lashed to the trunk of a tree. "When I found _your_ tracks, I realized you were on foot, and brought a spare horse," he said.

Merlin grinned up at the prince. "Wow, I don't know what to say…" he said, truly touched that Arthur would consider his needs at all.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "I only did it so you could keep up on our way to the hunting grounds," he said, patting his crossbow, which hung from the saddle of his own horse. "Now, I suppose we'll find better use for my superior hunting skills. Mount up," he said. Without waiting for Merlin, he then urged his horse onward, following the tracks Merlin had been following all night.

Merlin's eyes widened, and he scrambled to the other horse, fighting to untether it before climbing onto the saddle and pressing with his legs and flicking the reins to tell the horse to move. "Wait for me!" he objected as he rode off after him.

* * *

The King of Camelot sat in his dining hall, already enjoying his breakfast when his ward entered the room. He smiled at her warmly, for she was one of the few things left in this world that could truly make him smile. Raising a hand, he gestured to the table, and a servant came instantly to bring another plate. "Good morning, Morgana," he said, holding out a hand to her.

Returning his smile, Morgana came to his side and took his hand, squeezing it gently as she took the seat that had been pulled out by the servant. Once settled, her eyes went to the empty place on Uther's other side. "Where's Arthur?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

Uther shrugged slightly, gazing off into the distance. "He said he wanted to go hunting early today," he informed her, taking a sip of his drink, before his eyes turned back to her.

Inwardly, Morgana cursed. She needed Arthur to be here, for this part of their plan to work. "Did he say when he'd return?" she asked, trying not to sound too curious.

Another shrug. "You know Arthur. When he's hunting, he comes back when he makes a kill, not before," he said with a knowing smirk. There was a time when _he_ spent his days out there, hunting, not a care in the world. He paused a moment, looking Morgana over thoughtfully. "Is something the matter?" he asked her, concerned.

Morgana pursed her lips, and revealed the emotion she had been practicing. "Oh, it's probably nothing," she said, frowning slightly.

The king leveled a gaze at her. "Morgana, you know you can tell me. Whatever it is, we can fix it," he insisted to her.

If Morgana didn't know what she knew now, she would have been touched by his level of care for her. Never before she had returned to Camelot after having been 'kidnapped' had he ever shown kindness to her to such a degree. He practically spoiled her, these days. _Good_ , she thought. _Let him do all he can to make up for what he did, what he_ is _._ _It will accomplish nothing._ Aloud, she said, "It's my maidservant, Gwen. She didn't show up for work today." She needed Arthur to be here, she needed to plant the seeds of suspicion in his mind, in case Gwen decided to try to be heroic and keep her poor brother's fate to herself. She couldn't pretend nothing was wrong when she returned, if Arthur already knew that something _was_.

A soft chuckle from Uther broke into her thoughts. "Is that all?" he asked, shaking his head ruefully. "My dear Morgana, if your maidservant can't be relied upon, we'll just get you another one," he said, smiling indulgently.

Morgana forced herself to smile back. Of course _Uther_ wouldn't care a whit about the fate of a servant girl.

Where was Arthur?

* * *

Two men on horseback moved through a particularly dense part of the forest carefully. Draped over the horse in front of one of the men was the body of a woman, covered in a heavy brown cloak, partially to keep her from getting too cold and waking too early, and partially to hide her from any passersby they might happen upon on their way. It had already been necessary to use the sleeping potion on her twice, and they still had another day's ride to go. The afternoon was beginning to turn into evening, and they were about to stop and camp for the night, when suddenly both men were flung off their horses, and hurled into the nearby trees.

A boy in a blue hooded cloak, no more than eleven or twelve, stood before them, arms outstretched, pale blue eyes regarding them coldly. A dark-skinned man in a gray tunic, the one they had captured days before, held the reigns of the horse with the woman draped over it, lifting the hood of the cloak to reveal the woman's face.

"She's alive," the young man announced, his voice elated and relieved, but the expression on the boy's face didn't falter.

"Get on the horse, take her to Camelot as fast as you can. Warn Prince Arthur of Cenred's plot. I'll take care of these two," Mordred replied, never taking his eyes off the men as one of them began to try to stand.

The young man nodded hesitantly, then made to climb onto the horse. Just then, a crossbow bolt hit him in the arm, and he fell back, crying out in pain.

Mordred spun around to face the direction the crossbow bolt had come from. _The High Priestess must have sent men after us,_ he thought anxiously. There, movement high on a fallen log behind a tree. " _Adúnfiel,_ " he whispered, his eyes glowing, and the man cried out suddenly as he fell from his perch.

Suddenly, there was a cloth over his mouth and nose, in a grip like a vice, and Mordred's vision went dark.

* * *

 _She was sitting in her usual spot by the lake, seated directly on the picnic table with her feet resting on the bench, a worn piece of thick paper in her hands, the words on it written in beautiful, flowing cursive, something which had made her smile when she first read the page._

 _The ninety-first time reading it, however, she had started to hate the page more than she hated maths._

" _Why do I have to memorize this rubbish?" she groused, probably for the fiftieth time, she hadn't been counting her own complaints. Lying on the grass near the table, eyes closed in thought, was an old homeless man with long, white hair, and a long, white beard. Not even a hint of irritation passed over his features, as he drew in a breath to speak._

" _It's important. It's your destiny," he replied, yet again, his eyes never opening as he lie there._

 _The short haired girl sighed in exasperation, gazing up at the sky as if to look for help from above. "Destiny," she spat. "Destiny's rubbish. Some bloke has a bad dream, writes it down, then suddenly I have to look over my shoulder and base all of my decisions on what he dreamed. Bollocks. If destiny's really what's going to happen, it'll happen whether I memorize this bunkum," she protested, crossing her arms and glaring at the old man defiantly, daring him to refute her point._

 _The old man sighed, and opened his piercing blue eyes to gaze at her rebellious green ones. "There are two types of travelers, Cameron; those who travel with a map, and those who travel without one. Do you know the difference between the two?" he asked patiently, watching her carefully._

" _Yeah, one's got a map, the other don't," she replied with a shrug. When the old man refused to look away, she sighed and gave it some thought. Finally, she said, "Well, the ones with a map know where they're going, and how to get there." Then, a wicked glint appeared in her eye as she added, "And the other ones actually enjoy the trip."_

 _This caused raspy laughter from the old man, who had to pull himself up to a sitting position to catch his breath, oblivious to the bits of grass in his hair. Once he had calmed down enough to speak, he said to her, "Well, destiny's like a badly drawn map, then. For those of us who need to get to where we are going, it helps to know what to expect. But, Fate has made it confusing enough for us to still get lost from time to time. Just so people like you won't get bored on the journey," he shot back with a smirk. Cameron stuck her tongue out at him, which he ignored, lying back down on the grass. "Read it again," he instructed, earning an impatient groan from his apprentice._

" _In those days will come the time of the Once and Future King…" she began with a sigh._

* * *

Morgause watched the girl sleep, more restless now, and the girl seemed to be getting more color in her cheeks. The prophecies she had heard from the girl in her sleep were erratic, disjointed; she wondered what knowledge the girl possessed when she was awake. Adjusting the girl's covers, she stood and left the room, glancing back once at the sleeping girl before closing the door and approaching the throne room. _Best not to leave Cenred alone too long, lest he start coming up with his own plans_ , she thought…

The girl shifted in her sleep, her left hand emerging from beneath the blanket. On her palm, the light mark of a bird was getting darker moment by moment, as it slowly flapped its wings…


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long for this part, guys, sorta had to make some major decisions before these chapters could come together. Anyway, please let me know if you are left with any questions, I will try to explain things in future chapters.**

 **To my reviewer who asked if it was a vision or a dream... I can't answer that yet, but rest assured, it will be explained more and more as the story progresses.**

 **I do not own Merlin.**

She wasn't sure what came first, the pain or the light. They seemed to come together, and Cameron groaned, trying to shield her eyes with arms that barely responded to her. With much coaxing, she convinced her eyes to open slightly, and saw she was in a room made of gray stone, with a hole that would probably have been a window were there any glass in it, through which the offending sunlight came streaming in. This wasn't her chamber…

Her chamber?

Her memory was so fuzzy, she couldn't tell if her chamber had been a dream or not. Wasn't her room that place with the white ceiling and the gray carpet, with the motivational posters and Price Tech advertisements in frames along the white walls? With her clock and her tablet and her i-Pod, and-

She was in the past.

Mr. Emrys had sent her to the past, and now she was here, in…

In Camelot?

No, there was nothing for her in Camelot, she failed her mission, the legends were wrong and the prophecies were bunk and she was…

In Gawant?

She _should_ be in Gawant. Her chamber, _that_ was in Gawant, her chamber with the wool blankets and rickety table and fireplace and the useless yet intricately carved staff she had gone through a lot of trouble to steal from a very powerful sorcerer, propped up in the corner. But this wasn't her chamber. Looking around, she saw little that showed anyone actually lived here… it looked more like an abandoned…

Castle?

She felt the urge to gaze out of the window, but doubted she had enough strength to even get up. Why did she feel like this? So weak? Like she was…

The door opened suddenly, and a beautiful woman with long, blonde hair, wearing a blue silk dress, glided into the room. Her eyebrow raised, her lips curved upward into a beautiful, contagious smile. "You're awake," she said warmly, chocolate brown eyes looking the girl over.

A noble. _Remember what Gwen taught you,_ her haze-filled brain scolded her, and she fought to move, to sit up, but by now the lady was at her side. "Shh, don't move, you still need rest," she said, settling down on the floor beside her.

"M'lady?" Cameron croaked, her voice hoarse.

The woman smiled, and reached for something from a table behind Cameron's head. "Here," she said, and, propping the girl up, brought a metal cup to her lips.

Cameron sipped the water gratefully, until the cup was lowered and placed back on the table. Swallowing, she gazed up at the lady and tried again. "M'lady, where am I?" she asked, trying desperately to remember anything that might have happened to cause her to wake up in a strange place.

"You are at the castle of Fyrien, on the southern tip of Caerleon," the lady replied.

Cameron blinked. "Caerleon… is that in Gawant?" she asked, trying in vain to remember why she would be here instead of at Princess Elena's side.

The noblewoman gave her a strange look. "Caerleon is the realm of King Caerleon. Gawant is the realm of King Godwyn," the woman said slowly, looking her over curiously.

 _Another country, then. Got it,_ Cameron thought, but aloud she said, "Right, sorry, M'lady, must still be a bit addled…"

The lady gave her a slight nod, smiling. "I am Morgause, High Priestess of the Old Religion," she said, pausing to judge Cameron's reaction.

Cameron felt herself drifting off again, and fought it desperately. "Old Religion…" she murmured. "Catholic, then?" she asked hazily. Then she remembered where she had heard the words before, and her eyes came open suddenly, to fix on the noblewoman's face. "No… 'Old Religion' means magic," she corrected herself, swallowing.

Morgause nodded, smiling softly. "Does this frighten you?" she asked cautiously.

The girl gave her a lopsided grin in response, her eyes drifting closed again before she forced them open. "Not afraid of _magic_ … sort of trying to protect it, at least, I _was_ ," she said, her grin fading. Her eyes were closing again.

"Protect it… from what?" the High Priestess asked, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder to help her wake up. It worked, for the moment, as the handmaiden's eyes opened.

"Magic is… almost gone…" Cameron said, slowly losing the battle to keep her eyes open. "It needs to be brought back," she added thickly. "I'm s'posed to find my master, help the Once and Future King, but…"

Her head was tilting, her eyes were closing, and Morgause shook her gently. "But what?" she asked, trying to get as much information from the girl as she could.

"Merlin…" was all the girl said, before sleep claimed her once again.

* * *

The King paced his throne room, back and forth, fuming to the point that Sir Leon was almost too afraid to enter. However, one did not become a knight of Camelot by giving in to fear, so he pushed open the great doors and approached his king, taking a knee. "Sire, the patrols still have not been able to find him. We have expanded the search past Prince Arthur's usual hunting trails, but we need more men to cover more territory," he said, keeping his report short and to the point.

"Take everyone, organize the peasants if you have to, I want him found," Uther commanded, to which the curly-haired knight bowed and quickly left. Lost in his own inner turmoil, he did not notice Morgana disappearing from the side door she had been watching him through.

The king's raven-haired ward scowled as she hastened down the corridor to her chambers. Closing her door securely behind her, she went immediately to her desk. Moments later, she was standing at her window, a tiny slip of paper in her hand. Opening the glass panes, and glancing about to ensure none saw her, she focused her magic as her sister had taught her. " _Lyftfléogend cume oÞ mec_ ," she whispered, and her eyes glowed golden as the magic was released. Patiently she waited, until a black spot could be seen in the distance, coming closer, and in no time a raven stood on her window sill. Allowing herself a small smile at her success, she carefully tied the small slip of paper to one of the bird's legs, then stepped back. " _Æt mín sweostor áflíeh_ ," she commanded, eyes glowing, and the bird swiftly flew away.

Smiling coldly, Morgana gazed after the bird until it disappeared in the distance. "You can't hide forever, Arthur," she murmured, before closing the window.

* * *

"So, Arthur," Merlin said, urging his horse to come closer to the prince's.

Arthur inwardly groaned. "Yes, Merlin?" he asked, knowing he was going to regret it. He tended to regret most conversations with his oblivious manservant. Especially since he tended to point out when Arthur was wrong about something.

"These men that have Gwen, there are two of them. Both with swords," Merlin said conversationally.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur responded, "Yes, Merlin, you told me."

"And they're probably taking her somewhere, where there are more men," Merlin continued, unfazed.

"More than likely," Arthur responded, somewhat testily.

"And you've got a sword, and a crossbow… and _me_ ," Merlin went on.

"Fat lot of good _you'll_ be," Arthur remarked, but was once again ignored.

"So it's us two, with only one of us armed, against… how many do you think?" Merlin asked innocently.

Arthur scowled at his manservant. "There's no way _I_ could know that, is there?" he retorted.

Merlin cast his prince a sideways glance. "Oh, of course not. That's why you've come up with such an excellent plan to defeat them, no matter how many they are," he said with a lopsided grin.

"Plan?" Arthur responded, eyebrow raised.

Merlin's eyes widened innocently. "You _do_ have a plan, don't you, _Sire_?" he asked in mock surprise.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, then turned to look ahead, shrugging nonchalantly. "Of course I do," he said, a wicked glint in his eye.

"And that _is_?" Merlin probed, when Arthur didn't elaborate.

Arthur smirked. "I'm going to trade them. One servant for another. Sounds fair, doesn't it?" he asked, and urged his horse to a faster pace.

"Very funny!" Merlin called, forced to coax a bit more speed from his own horse. " _Prat_ ," he muttered to himself, glaring up ahead.

Arthur's horse was faster, and Merlin almost lost sight of him, when suddenly he saw him come to a halt up ahead. Pulling on the reigns, Merlin called his magic to him, prepared to protect Arthur from…

A body. A glance at Arthur, who was sliding off his horse and giving the area only a brief glance without drawing his sword, told Merlin it was safe enough to dismount. He quickly did so, kneeling down next to the man on the ground.

"He's alive," Merlin said, frowning at the blood-soaked arm of his tunic. He had lost a lot of blood, and if this wound was left untreated, he would likely die out here. Suddenly, the man groaned, and Merlin quickly set to work, ripping a long strip of cloth from the end of the man's tunic to tie around the wound. He knew better than to attempt to remove the bolt, Gaius had taught him that to do so, would hasten the blood loss, and the risk of infection would be no less if he pulled it out now, the damage was already done. The man cried out in pain, his eyes flying open, when Merlin pulled the knot tight. "Easy, I'm here to help," Merlin said as the newly conscious man began to thrash. It took a moment, but the dark-skinned man began to calm.

Having checked the area around them, and assuring himself that they were alone, Arthur came to kneel next to Merlin's patient (for whom Arthur suddenly felt a pang of sympathy at the thought of _Merlin_ being the one to tend to him). "What happened?" he asked the man calmly. He didn't think this man was one of the ones Merlin had described, but it was possible he ran afoul of the men who took Guinevere, and might provide them with information.

"My sister…" the man responded, teeth clenched in pain. "They took her. We tried to stop them, but…"

Arthur frowned in confusion, and was about to ask another question, when Merlin interrupted him.

"Elyan?" Merlin asked, his eyes wide.

The man's eyes widened, as well. "How do you know my name?" he asked, on edge.

Instead of answering him directly, however, Merlin looked at Arthur. "He's Gwen's brother," he informed the prince, who looked the man over in a new light.

"Where are they taking Guinevere?" Arthur almost demanded, cold determination in his gaze.

Elyan was taken aback by the man's fervor. "The castle at Fyrien," he informed him, and Arthur immediately stood and went to his horse.

"Arthur!" Merlin protested, and the man on the ground gasped, startled.

" _Prince_ Arthur?" he asked, surprised, his eyes wide with apprehension. "No, it's a trap!" he called as the prince began to ride away.

This caused Arthur to stop, and turn his horse around. "What was that?" he asked dangerously.

Elyan then proceeded to tell the two men everything that had transpired, excluding the part about the druid boy (after what had happened with his father, Elyan was not about to admit to having dealings with a sorcerer, especially not to the Prince of Camelot). By the time his story was finished, Merlin had finished dressing his wound, and had used his own belt to make Elyan a makeshift sling, to avoid jostling his arm anymore and exacerbating the wound.

Arthur sat in silence for a long moment, lost in thought, before he spoke. "Fyrien was a crafty old merchant. He built a series of tunnels beneath his castle, in case of a siege," Arthur said. "My father used those tunnels, when he defeated King Caerleon. There's a secret entrance," he informed them.

Merlin grinned, seeing where this was going. "So, we sneak in, get Gwen, and sneak out," he said, approvingly.

"I'll come with you," Elyan said, determination in his gaze.

Arthur cocked his head at the man. "You're wounded," he pointed out, eyebrow raised.

"My left arm, Sire. I'm right-handed, I can still wield a sword," the blacksmith countered.

Arthur looked the man over. "Do you _have_ a sword?" he asked.

Elyan's expression did not waver. "I will have before this is over," he promised.

A slow smile spread across Arthur's face at the bravery of the peasant. He could definitely see the resemblance between this man and Guinevere. "You can share a horse with Merlin," he said, and turned to set out again.

Merlin rolled his eyes at his prince's back, then helped Elyan stand.


End file.
